Mistaken Identity
by plaguemysoul
Summary: Wanting to break out of boring routine, best friends Sookie and Tara do something they never would have ordinarily done, in going to vampire bar Fangtasia. But what happens when Sookie is mistaken for a fangbanger by none other than vampire Eric Northman himself, and meanwhile captures the grumpy and troubled vampires interest? Mostly silliness, craziness and fun. Smutty/Humour.
1. Mistaken Identity

** First, I own nothing to do with True Blood. I'm still fairly new to fanfiction, so this is an experimentation of sorts. Feel free to let me know if this is something you would like more of :-) I am still working on my other story; I just wanted to attempt a story in first person point of view.** **Hope you enjoy! :-)**

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_Mistaken Identity_

Sookie P.O.V:

It wasn't usually something Tara and I would do. Never did we dream we would ever be heading out to a notorious vampire bar named Fangtasia for the night. But living in a small town like Bon Temps, where there isn't much excitement to be had, you'd find yourself wishing for more and daring to break out of old routine. So, that was why we ended up at Fangtasia tonight.

Tara and I were instantly carded by a female vampire. She looked Tara up and down in her dress, with frightening interest. Frightening, to me anyhow. Tara was all smiles. Tara wasn't exactly a lesbian. I guess you would consider her a bisexual. She played for both teams, and she enjoyed experimenting. I often found myself wishing I was like her, in that sense.

After hearing thoughts non-stop for a little over fifteen years, silence was pretty much a rarity for me; a luxury. Now I was wondering why it had taken me so long to visit this vampire bar. It was complete and utter heaven. Sure, it wasn't completely noise-free. Several of the patrons in the bar tonight were humans, and their thoughts mostly consisted of sex, booze, and more sex.

But then, somewhere... in this bar, there was this amazing silence radiating from in one of the rooms. Probably the restroom. And as a young girl who'd had to put up with it most of her life, she gravitated towards that marvellous silence naturally like metal to a magnet. Ordinarily, I wouldn't actively seek it- especially not in a dangerous vampire bar, of all places, because I was positive there had to be certain underlying risks.

But, as for tonight... I want to be daring, and experience something new.

I sought it out eagerly. It was coming from in one of the rooms opposite the dance floor.

I step through the door without knocking.

Curiosity well and truly killed the cat. There is a vampire in here. Though most I couldn't immediately spot it, unless I took the time to attempt to hear their thoughts, and realized I couldn't, with this one, I instantly could. There is just something noticeably different about him; A certain glowing pallor to his complexion.

He is lying back in a tan leather recliner chair, cell phone pressed to his ear. He blinks at me in complete surprise, then stands. He's magnificently tall, at around over six-foot. And very, very attractive. Like in GQ male model standards, dressed in a fine grey pin-striped suit jacket and trousers. Underneath the jacket, he wears a button-up black shirt. The top buttons are undone and I can catch a whole lot of chest. His blonde hair is combed back, neat, and slick at the sides. His blue eyes are brightly lit in earnest surprise and anticipation for me. Something tells me I'm not so much of an unwanted interruption, after all. Oops. Good lord, what have I just unknowingly walked into?

"You are mistaken, your Magister. No, I am not aware of the situation. No, not at all." He doesn't take his eyes off me as he saunters forward. There is a certain confident bounce to the way he walks, a bit like a leopard ready to devour his prey whole. Am I his prey or what? "I will deal with it. Thank you for informing me." He holds the door widely open, and beckons me inside briskly with his free hand. Boy, for a vampire, he's pretty accommodating.

And the silence. Amazing. Incredible. All the good words in the book.

He closes the door behind me. I hear the lock click into place. Crap, shit.

"No, I have not. If it is something occurring in my area, I will deal with it myself. You know I always do." At that, a small smile slips arrogantly in place on his lips. He nods at me, and winks. Then he indicates for me to unbutton the collar of my blouse. Wait- what? "No, as far as I am aware of, this wasn't happening here. We are firm advocates of mainstreaming." His face darkens as he gives me a good once-over. All right, now this was getting fishy. He directs me to sit on his desk with two fingers. Then, without warning whatsoever, he starts unbuttoning his jacket. Holy hell. What on earth have I walked into? Seriously! "Yes, I will get right on it, your Magister. Goodnight." At that, he hangs up and tosses his phone carelessly at the wall across from where he's standing, and looks me over again.

Something tells me I've been mistaken as a vampire prostitute. Do vampires even hire prostitutes?

He cocks his head to the side, tears his jacket off his shoulders, and mumbles, quite appreciatively, "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting this. How old are you? Eighteen? At least I'll get to experience something fresh and exotic."

_Oookay._ Something tells me its time to speak and put things back into their rightful place. Clearly, he has mistaken me for somebody else. But then he is staring right into my eyes, in an intensely hungry and thoughtful kind of way. He drapes his jacket over his desk and brings his hands out in front of him to the buttons on his black dressy shirt. He licks his lips slowly, as he starts with the buttons. My eyes are instantly drawn to his mouth. Those lips... Fangs. Two glistening fangs. Holy shit. And then he resumes slowly, taking off his shirt, letting the fabric fall from his broad, muscular shoulders until he stands before me half-naked. He's heart-stoppingly toned and delicious. Hot damn. What on earth is going on here?

"What type are you?" he suddenly asks, and I haven't the slightest clue what he means.

"Uh, pardon?" I don't know whether to laugh, or whether to be scared for my life.

"No matter," he breathes, stepping forward. "We will learn quickly, won't we? The first sip always reveals all."

My stomach lurches, as I finally grasp sense of the strange situation. Jesus. Shepard of Judea. This vamp assumes I'm a Fangbanger. Self-consciously, I run my hand over my neck. Do I seriously look like one? Jesus!

"Eager little one, aren't we?" he says softly, amusedly.

Staring deeply into my eyes all the while, he stands in front of me, and I'm almost hypnotised by how deep and blue his eyes are. Gorgeous eyes, right there. Yum. He starts unbuttoning the top buttons of my blouse, then slides the fabric back over my shoulders. Then he reaches up gently, and runs the ice-cold tip of his fingers along my jaw, and underneath my chin. Then, he lifts my head, and directs my gaze to the wall opposite me. He gathers my hair in his hands, pulls it away from the side of my neck, and its then I well and truly start panicking.

I am not a fangbanger. In fact, I've never understood the appeal, or craze at all. As for now, I was scared shitless.

I squirm uncomfortably when I catch out of the corner of my eye, this tall blonde vampire bending down. Crap. He's so close to my neck, I can almost feel him breathing all over me.

_Mayday. Mayday._

"Stop, please!" I'm quaking like a leaf all over. My hands, my legs- everywhere- is shaking. "This is a huge misunderstanding! I'm not what you think I am! I'm not here for... that. I came here tonight, because my friend wanted to. We wanted to see what it was like, being in a vampire bar!" And then, I slipped up. It all came tumbling out of my mouth, but really, it had to, sooner or later. My true nineteen year-old side had to reveal itself eventually. "My best friend, Tara Thornton, is out there at the bar. She's probably finished her Gin and Tonic as we speak. I'm not a fangbanger. I'm nineteen years old. Hell, I probably shouldn't even be in here!"

I peek up at him after my explosion nervously, to find he is staring at me, frozen, stunned. Oh, boy. He doesn't look like a very pleased vampire one bit. His mouth is hanging agape, and with those fangs bared at me, it's somewhat disconcerting.

"I never expected this whole vampire thing to be so hardcore. I am not that type of girl. I was born and bred a true Christian, for goodness sake. I ain't never even so much as had sex before!"

"Pamela did not send you in for me?"

I haven't the slightest clue who this Pamela person is. "No, siree. She didn't. I just came in here simply for the, uh... silence. I never meant for this misunderstanding to happen, I swear!"

He closes his eyes and looks to be counting mentally inside his head. Once he gets past the twenty-second mark, he reopens them and turns slowly away from me. When he turns to look at me again, he's punching down a button on a machine on his desk. "Pam?" he growls, fixing me a very angry look. I almost feel on the verge of crying. He's one cheesed off, majorly intimidating vamp. A woman's bored voice squabbles on the other end of the machine, and then he swears harshly, in a foreign, unknown tongue to me. "How the fuck could this happen?" he snaps loudly, and I'm not sure whether he's actually talking to me or not. I remain silent, smiling apologetically. He keeps shooting me dirty looks, and I'd be full of shit if I said it wasn't even moderately disconcerting, added with the fang-bling.

"Look, I'm real sorry," I say gently, trying to appease the mad vamp. "But you came to that conclusion yourself, and I couldn't get the chance to explain myself." He paces around the room, then stills dramatically.

"You entered my office for the quiet?"

Oh, dammit. What have I gotten myself into? How do I explain? "Yes," I answer carefully. "It's very.. loud out there. All that... heavy metal music, and all. I needed somewhere quiet. I get terrible migraine headaches." Turns out, I was a better liar than I realized. He nodded, and it appeared that he'd swallowed up my taddle-tail whole. I was doing internal fist pumps. You go, Sookie!

"Then why did you come into my office?"

"Oh. This is your office?"

"Yes, it is. Human's are not permitted to enter in here, unless under the guidance of either Pamela or myself." Pamela. There goes that name again.

"Well, I said I was sorry," I mutter petulantly.

He ignores me, and retrieves his dressy shirt. He starts fastening up the buttons to regain a sense of modesty, and I consider leaving, but clearly, he doesn't want that. I go to step towards the door, and he cuts me off, standing directly in front of me; his shirt still halfway unbuttoned and hanging loosely off his white skin. I gulp, because it doesn't take much for him to look threatening.

"Don't leave. You are not dismissed yet." His voice is stern. He's very much talking at me as if I'm a child. Charming. "Pamela is on her way. We will get to the gist of this issue. This is not acceptable."

"All righty then." I try to sound confident, but my voice fails me. What did that mean? Did getting to the gist of this issue entail murdering me? Hell, if I know.

I try to distract myself, in inspecting his office. It's far too big and spacious for just one man. Or one vamp, more correctly. His taste in decorating is very... different. He has what looks like a bristly, brown bear-skin rug on the carpet. Dismally, I wonder where the head is. The wall opposite the door is covered completely in Fangtasia posters. One depicts a shot of a skinny, busty girl in a bikini with blood trailing down her neck. Very tasteful. Across his desk, there is what looks like a rusty old sword hanging on the wall. The handle has markings on the iron, in intricate little detail.

"Viking," the vamp grunts, catching the direction of my curious gaze.

"Cool. You got any of those weird horned hats, too?" I say it, mostly intended as a joke. But I can tell he doesn't quite see it that way. He shakes his head, and his jaw clenches, in disapproval. Oops. I guess vampires lack a sense of humour. This one certainly does.

The silence in the room is awkward. He doesn't talk much, at all. After a while, I hear him sigh. I gather enough courage to look at him. He has his eyes closed tightly. A set of fingers are pinching the bridge of his nose. "Where the fuck is she? What's keeping her?" he mutters gruffly. Again, I don't know whether he's actually speaking to me or not. "Pam?" He shouts so unexpectedly at the wall, and the frustration radiating off him is palpable. "Fuck it. If she refuses to come to me, we will go to her."

And then he reaches over, and grabs me by the hand roughly. I squeak out a groan of protest. He drags me out of the room - his office?- and pulls me along with him. The dance floor is very crowded. I search for Tara, and I realize she's stuck in conversation with the female vamp who carded us before. She's smiling coyly, and nodding, and I immediately recognize that look. The female vamp is eyeing her with avid interest. Hot damn. Tara's totally winning her over. How... weird.

Inward fist pump. You go, Tara!

However, the vamp gripping my hand doesn't look as pleased as I feel. His mouth presses into a tight, grim line. He's eyeing both girls with rage. Are vampires usually this angry? Jesus.

He then says something to himself - something I can't catch over the music and tenour of thoughts from everybody inside the bar's heads- and turns to look at me with determined resolution in his expression. "Look in my eyes," he orders down at me, and because he looks so irritated, I just do so immediately. He places his other hand on my shoulder, staring at me directly. "What happened in the office, it never did, all right, Human? No one can know of this."

Um, all right. What the hell was that all about?

"Sure." I swallow thickly. "Whatever you say, Mister." I salute him like he's a sergeant and I'm his toy-soldier.

He rolls his eyes, and then tugs me towards where Tara is sitting, deep in conversation with the female vamp. What a total control freak. God.

His clutch on my hand tightens as we arrive at the bar. The two girls still awkwardly in conversation. The female vampire drags her eyes over to the blonde, tall male innocently.

"Not happy, Pam," he shouts at her over the heavy music.

Her impassive face cracks slowly into sincere confusion. She leans over. "What's the matter with you? You look shitty. _Why_ are you shitty?"

"Oh, it is charming of you to be so ignorant."

"You need to loosen up, Eric."

"Do I?" Jesus, he won't quit yelling. He's so overbearing. "What is your job here, Pam? Do I pay you hourly to eye-fuck the human patrons? No! I pay you to do your job!"

I can sense an argument of epic proportions brewing between the two. The female vamp, she stares at him in disbelief, before an expression of intense anger crosses her features, matching his. Yeah, some shits going down. "Why make a fucking scene, Eric?"

I give his hand a sharp tug. "Hey!" I cut in before he can manage to get a word out. "This lady here is right. You need to cool off, Mister!"

He stares at me like I've grown another head.

"In fact, you're coming with me right now!"

Tara gives me a thankful look; She's not finished flirting with the female vamp yet.

"What?" He looks confused, helpless, and lost, when I drag him to the dance floor. "What is this?"

I clutch onto the top of his shoulders with my hands, squeezing down roughly. "You're dancing with me tonight, Mister!"

"I don't dance. I never do. I have a reputation to uphold here."

"Well, tonight you do!" Where did my confidence come from? Because I do not know myself. The vampire is still angry and frustrated, when I force him to move with me a bit. It takes a lot of work to move his shoulders back and forth in time to the rock music. He's so stiff and rigid. Honestly, he looks like he'd rather be doing anything else other than dancing with me. He's staring down at me with such sheer hatred, it wouldn't have surprised me if he decided to kill me right on the spot. Too bad.

"I don't dance with the humans! I never do!"

"You are so uptight," I say to him loudly through the music.

"This is debasing."

I roll my eyes. While I'm not the best dancer in the world, I think I do all right. I work with what I've got. I slide one hand off his shoulder and place it around his back. He's looking past my head, his hands hanging limply at my sides. I wrap a hand through his, and guide it up to my hip. He notices what I've done at once, and eyes me with a distinguishable amount of distaste. I almost laugh. The tight and stern look on his face is comical. After a while of tentative moving, he gets into it- the tiniest bit, at least. He steps side to side, all the while refusing to even acknowledge me. It's like he thinks I'm forcing him into something torturous. Pity, really, because I'm totally dancing my ass off without a care in the world. I'm swaying my hips, tossing my hair around my shoulders, and all. A girl just wants to let loose, now and then. A vampire ought to do the same. _Too bad he thinks he's too macho and strong, for that._

"You suck," I inform him, laughing.

It's obvious he mistakes that for something else. He nods. "Yes. _Yes_, I do."

This vampire was plain and simply incensed at being forced into dancing with a human girl, like me.

"Not like that. You just need to loosen up a whole lot! Live a little!"

I did something then: Something I never, ever thought I would catch myself doing. I reach down between us, and grope his crotch with my hand. He takes in a deep breath in shock, and then, magically, I discovered my indecent touching was more than enough to cause this one to loosen up once and for all. If only I knew just what I was getting myself into ahead of time, and just who this vamp was, in all his prominence. But I will learn soon enough.


	2. Fluttering

**I want to thank you all so much for your amazing responses. That was quick, and very flattering. Hope you enjoy this chapter just as much. :)**

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_**Chapter Two**_

"Guess what I stole tonight before we left?" Tara says excitedly, as we scoot into my car. I scowl at her; I ought to have known she would have done this. Tara has incredibly sticky fingers; I can remember, in school, Tara would steal items all the time at random; Pencil sharpeners, pens. In her defense, her mother was pretty much an absent figure in her life. "I took some of their shit. Let's try it."

I put a hand on my forehead, feeling how sticky and flushed my skin is. "Some of _what_?"

"Their shit." And then, I immediately get it; She pulls open her messenger bag and produces a bottle of True Blood. She shakes the bottle at me, and just the sound of the red liquid sloshing against the glass alone is enough to almost make me gag. "O-positive, baby," she sings wickedly. Then she cranks it open and takes an inquisitive whiff. She cringes in disgust and squirms in the seat. "Fuck, Sook! It smells so bad! How do you think they can possibly drink this stuff?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "Maybe 'cause they're vampires?"

"All right. Here goes." Tara braces herself, and raises the bottle to her lips. I stare at her, breathless. For a moment, I start to think she's not gonna go through with it- I certainly hope she isn't- but then she completely and utterly surprises me. She gulps down a huge mouthful of True Blood, and shudders. Hell, even I shudder and gag, and I'm not even the one tasting it. "Oh, hell!" She gasps, wiping her mouth. "Yeah, that was just as bad as I thought it would be! Nasty!"

"So, how was it?" I ask, unable to curb my curiosity. Come on; Anybody would be curious about how it tastes, though they mightn't ever dare admit it out in the open.

"Bitch, how do you think it was?" she bellows out, but then she grins. Her usually white teeth are stained red, and so are the corners of her lips. Eck. The things we do when we're young, daring, and stupid. Only Tara and I would be able to do this together. With anyone else, they would have considered us weird. "All right. Your turn, Miss. Stackhouse."

"No way, Tara! Gross!"

"Come on," she laughs, plucking my hand off the steering wheel. She shoves the chilled bottle into my hand until I'm forced to hold it. "You have to! I did it, now you have to as well! It's only fair!"

I take a curious sniff, and scrunch up my face. I can't smell anything exactly, but it doesn't look particularly mouth-watering to me in the slightest when I look down into the bottle. It looks like thick, gloopy red syrup. Perhaps that's why a microwave is necessary? Because the blood's coagulated? My stomach pitches. I'm definitely not as tough as Tara. "Jesus, no! Seeing you having to force yourself to swallow it down is more than enough for me, Tara!"

"You chicken," she whispers, disappointed.

"Yes, but I'm a sensible chicken."

She slumps in the seat, upset. Everything is a content silence for about five minutes. Then she bursts out laughing in bewilderment.

"What's so funny?" I ask, a little miffed, because I know she's laughing due to me, and something I did tonight.

"Oh, nothing." She purses her lips and tries to hide a grin. But then she sighs. "Well, all right. Maybe it's not nothing. It's just... you totally took me by surprise tonight."

I'm completely clueless. "Why, Tara?"

"Because, girl, you just..." She tosses her head and looks at me with boiling admiration. It's a bit unnerving. What on earth did I possibly do to make her so in awe of me tonight? I evalute the evening inside my head; I didn't do much, besides making a fool of myself, and maybe... of a vampire, who believed he was above and beyond dancing with a human girl. Big whoopee. "You made mince meat out of _the_ Eric Northman, and you never even fucking got scared for yourself. Not even _once._ It was great, Sook."

I blink at her. "Eric _who_?"

"Oh, come on," she says, mock-slapping me on the side of my head. "You know what I'm talkin' about, right?" When she realizes I sincerely don't know, she clamps a hand over her mouth, and her eyes widen fearfully to the point I begin worrying that her eyeballs are going to pop out of their sockets any... minute... now. I cannot understand her enormous reaction to the fact I don't know what she's talking about at all. What's the big deal here? All I know, is that her fright is infectious. A clammy sweat covers my skin. "You seriously don't know who Eric Northman is? Sookie, _everybody_ knows who he is! Where you been for the last five years? Hiding in a cave, or something?"

"Well, clearly not _everybody_ knows who he is, Tara," I mutter, finding it hard to hide the irritation in my voice. "Who is Eric Northman? And _why_ would everybody know about him? Is he some kind of big-shot vampire or something?"

"He _runs_ Fangtasia, Sookie. He's the _boss_. He's also old as dirt, and as notorious as a vampire can get. Haven't you heard all the rumours about him?"

"Holy shit," I gasp, rubbing my face with a hand. Now I _was_ panicking. "He's- _what_?"

"Yeah, he's the _boss_, Sookie. Or whatever you wanna call it. And, judging by the things they've been sayin' about him in the press, he is a nasty, _brutal_ piece of work! I'm surprised he never killed you for making him dance with you, Sook! _Damn_!"

I'm absolutely horrified, but I manage to suppress those panicky feelings down with a few good gulps of air into my lungs. "How mean are we talking here, Tara? Like... really, _really_ mean?"

"Well, here's some food for thought: One rumour, they say he cut out his own heart and sold it on E-Bay so that he could afford to buy a fancy sports car." I scoff and eye her in disbelief. _Cutting out your own heart just so that you can afford to buy a car? What a load of crock! "_No bullshitting, Sook; That's_ totally_ what it said."

"Tara, why didn't you give me a biography _before_ I groped his you-know-what in public? It sure as hell would've been helpful to know all that in advance. Otherwise, I mightn't have fooled around on him so much!"

But really, even as I say the words to her in consternation, I know they are completely false. Who am I kidding? I might have even done it regardless. It was very... amusing; his reaction to it. He clearly wasn't expecting it at all, and now I think I knew why; Maybe it was because no human's dared to touch him so provocatively, due to being aware of just how dangerous he was? But it was only done out of a bit of harmless fun. Nobody could hardly fault me for that, surely. Now, I realize, that slice of harmless fun mightn't be so harmless, after all. What if he comes for me now? What if he... kills me? I shiver at the thought, and try my very hardest to tuck that possibility away into the back of my mind. That kind of negative thought, it wasn't really helping in the slightest. I am alive now- I'm out of the bar- and that's all that matters presently.

"I also heard that his favorite indulgence consists of making little children cry." _Oh, really? Now this was getting beyond ridiculous._

"Come on, Tara. He didn't seem that bad, right? He was... pleasant enough." Another falsehood, but I _really_ needed the moral support right now. Only, whatever reassurance I needed, Tara clearly wasn't going to give it to me; She laughs and murmurs in half-hearted agreement nervously.

"Well, what did _you_ think of him, Sookie? After all, _you_ were the one hanging around him all night?"

I purse my lips and think hard for a moment. _Now that was a difficult question to answer._ "Well, you saw the way he was acting, Tara," I tell her uneasily, after a moment of consideration. "He's... a complete hot-head. He yelled more times than I can count on even one hand! He's got some... major anger-management issues that he needs to deal with!" And then, I got these visualizations loud and clear. Me, lying dead somewhere. Blood all over me... This Eric Northman standing over me, dabbing the tips of his fingers into a pool of my blood, then licking his fingers and savouring the taste, like I'm a good hearty meal. _Yeah, now I'm freaking myself out._ "Oh my stars, Tara. What if he comes after me? What if he... kills me or forces me into letting him drink my blood?" It certainly seems like something he would do, if there _is_ any truth into what Tara has just revealed to me.

She punches me in the knee, forcing me back into the here and now. _I am alive. I have made it through the night safe and sound. Nothing more to it. Whatever comes next... comes next. No sense stressing over it_. "Yeah, Sook. Let's not talk about this anymore, all right?" Her voice is uneven and an octave higher than it usually is. We're definitely spooking each other out.

"I agree, Tara." We are certainly in dire need of a subject change.

"Hey, you know what food I'm craving, Sookie?" Food. _Food. Better topic of discussion, definitely. There isn't anything scary about food at all._

"What? You want to get something?"

"Yeah." She rubs her stomach, looking a little guilty. "I could totally do with some fried chicken right now." And so, fried chicken on the menu, it is. But how either of us can still eat, so late at night with nerves simmering away in our bellies, is a mystery to me at this point. We get ourselves a bucket of chicken to share, and sit in the seat of my car, gorging ourselves. But then after a while, an illness settles in my stomach. All I can seem to think about, is myself covered in viscera and blood. I lean my forehead against the steering wheel, clutching my stomach. _What if this is the last meal I'll ever get to have?_

"Sookie, don't think so much. We're probably stressing over nothing." Tara's voice is empathetic. "And besides, why would a vampire kill a human just because they fucking touched them or danced with them, no less? It just don't make sense to me. Sook," she sighs, and places a strong hand on my shoulder. That's Tara half of the time; awesomely tough. "If anything, he would have been like: _'Oh, Hail Mary- that feels good_!'"

I'm still not convinced. "Tara, I'm scared," I admit to her honestly. But it really didn't take the brightest lightbulb to figure it out that I was. "I mean, if I had known ahead of time that he was like... _the owner_, then I would have never, _ever_ done all that!"

"Sookie, what's the big deal?" After a decent amount of food in her, Tara was all confident. "He probably loved it!"

"Right," I laugh dubiously. "And did you see his face when I was simply forcing him to dance with me? Tara, you saw the way he looked, surely? He looked like he wanted to kill me!"

"No. All I saw was him getting all hot and bothered by it." She laughs loudly, and then clutches her ribs. "Still, I get why you'd be regretting it now, and why you'd be so worried. He's real dangerous, Sook. I heard somewhere that the older the vampire is, the stronger he is. And you groped the _oldest_, _most powerful_ vampire in Louisiana!"

"How is this reassuring to me?" I ask, hating the squeakiness of my own voice. "Seriously?"

"Look, I had a long conversation with this other vampire tonight at the bar. She's known him for... years. They co-own the bar together. She said he's always a moody son of a bitch. It's just the way he is." She shrugs. "I wouldn't take it personally, Sook. Who knows? He has probably already forgotten about it already."

"You think?" I whisper uncertainly.

"Yes." Jesus, I sure hope so. "Don't worry no more." She slaps me on the wrist. "Hey, are you gonna eat the rest of this chicken?"

"Definitely not." I wipe my greasy mouth and fingers on a napkin. "I can't eat anymore."

"Good," she grins broadly. She stuffs chicken into her mouth, tearing it apart with her teeth hungrily. "That just means there's more for me. Fucking great, because... I... I feel like I could eat a whole farm!"

Just like that, she's successful in making me laugh. It doesn't last long, though. Because after a while, I'm back to being scared again.

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We talk no more of what happened tonight at the vampire bar, much to my relief. Tara sleeps over for the night, and I love it when she does. And right now, I could use a friendly face to see me through the rest of the late night 'till morning comes. I'm probably most definitely overreacting, sure. Maybe he will forget all about it, like Tara said he would?

Something told me he wouldn't, though. I don't know why that was exactly, but something just did.

Soon as we get home to my Grandmother's house at four A.M and Tara flops onto my double bed, she's instantly out like a flashlight. I change into my nightgown, and slide into the sheets next to her, listening to her faint snores for a bit. After a while, I realized I'm a bit disappointed in her. I'm bitter, and I have a nasty thought of waking her just so that she can suffer along with me. How unfair that she can sleep and I can't. I guess it's easier for her because she didn't fool around with some murderous vampire tonight, and deliberately cheesed him off.

_Good lord. What was a suitable punishment in his eyes?_

After a while, the scene changes. One moment, I was staring up into the pitch-black dark of my ceiling and, in the next, I was somewhere else completely. With _him_.

_"You're going to pay for what you did, Human," he says, blood streaming down his chin. "I do not tolerate being made a fool of- especially not in public."_

_Scene change._

_It's a sunny light day. He stands before me, in his grey suit and all. The sun is almost blinding against his white skin, against his hair. His entire jacket is matted in dry streaks of dark red blood. I try to focus on him alone, but then... other people are behind us. My eyes drift back and forth without my control. A few obese vampires stand behind him, laughing around a sizzling barbeque. One vampire with red hair chortles through his fangs and turns human limbs around on a plate._

_ "How does it feel now?" This Eric Northman asks, his voice cold and sardonic. "You are completely powerless. Weak underneath my control. Limbless." And then it occurs to me that he's actually referring to my bodies state. I look down at my arms... my legs... to find they are completely sawn off. Blood... everywhere. _I squeal, and thrash, and punch something warm and solid in the middle of their gut.

Tara._ Crap._

"Sookie!" she gasps, coughing. It didn't feel like a strong hit to me, but I've definitely winded her by the sounds of it. "What the hell, bitch? That really hurt!"

_ Light._ An orange light creeping in through the curtains of my room. _Morning._ I breathe more easily then. _Thank goodness._ I was just dreaming. Only, it seemed so real. My heart is pounding away in my chest. I clutch onto my chest with my hand for dear life in a hope to calm it where it rests somewhere underneath my hot skin.

I sit slowly against the headboard of my bed, and peer down at her. She looks more or less as frightened as I undoubtedly feel. Her eyes are wide, the whites overpowering her dark pupils, and she's breathing through her nose heavily.

"What is wrong with you, Sook? Are you okay?" Her voice trembles and breaks.

I force an apologetic smile down at her. Something tells me I'm not all that convincing. "Well, I'm alive," I tell her softly, immediately at peace in the knowledge.

I peel the sheets away from my skin and hop out of bed, flexing out my arms and stretching them over my head. _Limbless, my ass. Thank God._ Tara stares at me like I've turned insane, and I probably have. _Well, that's me, really. Crazy, young Sookie Stackhouse, with all her telepathy issues._ Everyone already believed so at work. What difference did it make if I truly was turning crazy?

Once Tara gets over the shock, and we head downstairs, we are instantly greeted by the smell of delicious bacon grilling away in a pan on the stove. My Grandmother is standing over it and watches it so it won't burn on us. Much to her delight and equal confusion, I embrace her in a big hug. She laughs and clutches my cheeks between her wrinkled hands, her eyes wide.

"Sookie, what's all this about?"

"Oh, nothing, Gran." I smile at her cheerfully. "I'm just a girl who's happy to be alive today."

Even Gran's spooked out by my behaviour. Usually, I'm not so happy of a morning, and I catch her darting Tara concerned glances behind my back, now and then. But I _was_ happy. Happy now more than ever.

"So, what did you two lovely girl's get up to last night?" she asks excitedly, once all the foods settled on the table. "I heard the pair of you get in remarkably late!"

_Oh, Gran, I got myself into a bit of a pickle_, I would have loved to say to her. _I touched a vampire's you-know-what, and he's probably coming for me sooner or later. I'm most definitely on his hit list. _

Only, something told me Gran wouldn't be too pleased by that. So, Tara and I simply shrugged, and smiled, all the while delirious over the fact we'd been into a vampire bar last night. Heading out into vampire territory was pretty much to my Grandmother a no-man's-land, something she would have scolded me endlessly for. So, Tara and I deliberately decided to keep it to ourselves, though we felt a bit guilty. Gran was almost like a parental figure to Tara, and she hated lying to her as much as I did. But it was a necessary secret, really. Also, it spared us a lecture later.

Tara and I had to be getting to work after one in the afternoon; We had same shifts together, and finished at the same hour of the night.

I just loved working at Merlotte's Bar and Grill. It meant my usually non-adventurous social life turned into an adventurous one, with all the different folks I worked with; There was Arlene, a woman in her mid-thirties, who I didn't get along too well with. I was ten years younger than her, so I guess that opened up some complications in the way we interacted together. Then there was Lafayette, Tara's cousin, who I got on with like a house on fire. He's openly, proudly gay, and he flaunts it to anybody within hearing distance. Then there's my boss, Sam; He's another issue altogether. When I hear his thoughts, I also hear his feelings. Often, he wishes I wouldn't wear a bra. Other times, he's wishing he was the type Tara would go for. But I mostly loved Merlotte's for the friendly, inviting atmosphere. All the people I worked with- give or take a few- made me feel like we were one big, close-knit, messed-up family. All of us stuck together, mostly. Especially Lafayette; He was almost like mine and Tara's bodyguard. I knew he would defend us eagerly to his death.

It was only natural that once we got to work, Tara was gushing to her cousin about our adventure last night. I miss the half of their conversation, though, because I work mainly out front serving customers, and only enter the kitchen to find Lafayette fanning himself with a dish-rag after Tara's divulged every prickly detail of our experience in a vampire bar.

When I kick through the door, holding an old tray to be washed, he makes a horrible face at me and claws the air with his hands, like a poorly acted werewolf-like creature in an eighties horror flick. "Sookie, this for real? I've just heard some saucy things about little, innocent you. Is my cousin for real?"

"Depends on what Tara's told you, Lafayette," I say shortly.

"Well, she says to me that you got it on with a vampire last night!" He eyes me doubtfully, then laughs, fanning himself again. "That true, Sookie? I know you enough to believe you'd never do such a thing, you minx!"

I flush underneath his speculative gaze. "Lafayette, it's not_ that_ big of a deal."

"Oh, yes, it is!" It's obvious he's not gonna let it go, but that's Lafayette for you. He soaks up every little detail like a sponge. "It don't matter _what_ he is, sugar-buns. It's _who_ he is, and my cousin tells me you were messing around with _the_ Eric Northman last night!"

_Jesus Christ Almighty. How is it that everybody knows about this Eric Northman, and I don't?_

"How are you still breathing after all that?" He waves his hands around his body theatrically. "The man is dangerous. I'm surprised you're still walking!"

"So everybody tells me," I snap at him, throwing the tray. "Look, I can't _help_ that I don't know who he is, or what his deal is, for that matter! I _honestly_ never knew!"

He laughs, like my cluelessness is so endearing to him. "Honey, how could you _not_ know who Eric Northman is? He's what nightmares are made of." _Yes, he certainly is._ "I heard he once bit off a fangbanger's _entire_ left nipple. _That's_ how cold he is!"

"_Lafayette,"_ I groan in disgust, reeling. "Too _much_ information, all right? It's _definitely_ not helping my cause any!" _Why are there so many horrible stories floating around about this vampire?_ _Can he truly be that despicable? He sure seemed grumpy last night, yes, because I wasn't a fangbanger for him to drink blood from, but... truly that evil? _"I bet it's all bull, anyhow. A person can't even be that bad- _even_ a vampire!"

"You're in serious denial, you are," Lafayette says certainly, throwing his head back. He laughs again, all at my expense. "And a pristine girl, like you, touching him the way you did... he's gonna want a piece of your firm ass, sooner or later. He's got you in his sights now! The instance you touch a man, you go_ directly_ on his radar!_ Everybody_ knows that!"

"Lafayette, _stop_," I tell him loudly. _What a way to effectively scare a girl._ "I don't want to be on _anyone's_ radar!" _Oh, boy. Please tell me Lafayette is wrong_.

"You just wait," he says, trying to sound menacing. And it works in his favour. "You danced with the devil. He's gonna be coming for you, and a piece of your pussy!"

I flip him the bird, then storm out of the kitchen. I fix my hair by tightening up my ponytail, snatch up my notepad to write in orders, and square my shoulders. His vile talk is overwhelming. I couldn't say I believed him for a single second, but it _did_ so-happen to prey on my worst fears.

Halfway through busying myself with orders around Merlotte's, the phone rings.

"Tara?" I call loudly.

"Huh?" She pokes her head out of the kitchen innocently. "You want me?"

"The goddamn phone," I answer stiffly, jerking my chin into the direction of its incessant ringing. "Can you move your butt and answer it for me? I'm kind of busy, if you haven't noticed." I'm still cheesed-off at her for telling Lafayette so much.

She nods, and runs to answer it. It's only when I turn back from scribbling down a husband and wife's orders- and also catch a whole lot of unwanted details into their virtually non-existant sex life- that I notice there's something strange about her demeanour; She's still holding the phone to her ear, but she's watching me, frozen like a deer caught in a set of headlights. Her chin wobbles a fraction. And then I catch an earful of her thoughts, and I know then, it's not looking very good at all:

_Shit, how he know to call here? What he want with her?_ _Sookie... fuck. Should I hang up on him or what? Piece of no-good vampire trash... shit. _

"Uh, Sook?" she croaks out from where she's standing."You... you're wanted on the phone."

I try to perk myself up, as I approach her around the counter. But I know it's no good. I can't even seem to breathe properly. She thrusts the phone into my hand like it's a ticking time bomb, and gives me a frightened look.

I nod at her, mashing my lips together. And then I press the phone over my ear, and wait patiently. It never comes.

"Er... howdy?" I close my eyes, suppressing a sigh. _Why do I have to sound so cautious?_ It's not like he's standing right in front of me, for goodness sake. But it occurs to me a second later that my hand that's gripping the phone is shaking. _Dammit, why am I so pathetic?_

There's a brief pause. And then it comes. Finally.

_"Why, hello."_

He doesn't even sound angry. It's more like a seductive, husky purr. So, why is my body so trembly?

"Listen, Mister, I-"

"_No, you listen up, Human, and you will listen good."_ I gulp. All righty then. Now he's definitely angry. Crap, shit. I can almost envision this guy sitting in his office, with a wicked glint in his eyes and those fangs on show, while he talks. _"I'm calling to deliver a message, and you will obey."_

I catch Tara's eyes. She's standing stock-still in front of me, terrified out of her wits. I flush, take in a deep breath, and turn away from her. It's far too hard to concentrate when she's standing there, whimpering freely for me.

"All right, you got my attention now," I manage, in a disgracefully breathless voice. "What do you want? I said, I was sorry! If you're looking for apologies, then I-"

"_Don't fucking talk, just listen."_ He's almost shouting. And he's swearing... yet again. How typical. "_You will come to me tonight at my bar, and we will rectify this little situation between us-"_

"-Situation?" Now I'm yelling. Super. I put it down to the nerves I'm feeling. It's definitely the nerves. I'm hysterical. "I wasn't even _aware_ there was a situation between us, buddy!" _There. Go, Sookie. You tell him. _"Now you got some nerve callin' me at work, and then making threats! Who the hell do you think you are?"

_"Fuck it. Where are you?" _What?

"Uh, I'm pretty sure _you_ called me! You _know_ where I am!"

_"Oh, yes. That's right. I do know. I know exactly where you are."_ And then he chuckles, and the sound wrecks havok on my stomach. I feel goosepimples raise all over my skin. His laugh is so... menacing. So... creepy. _"I could very easily drop by right now, if you would like for this conversation to be held in person."_

"Hell no," I whimper, before I'm able to stop myself.

_"Now that's what I thought, Human."_ His voice softens and turns almost... smug? _"You would not like that. It would not be very pleasant. I could very easily kill every single person in the room you are standing in, if my patience is tested." _Another throaty laugh._ "And let's face it, you have left me teetering on the last edge of patience and sanity the instance you made a mockery of me last night in front of my guests."_

"I did not," I grumble in protest. "You did it to yourself!"

_"You were pushing and prodding me into dancing with you."_ He lets loose a string of muffled swear-words. What's with this vampire and swearing? Good lord. "_And then, actively humiliating me futher, you..."_ He clears his throat, and utters it like it's a disgraceful secret, _"...You touched me, and I did not like or appreciate the feelings it roused out of me. Do. You. Understand?"_

"Oh, so you got aroused because I touched you? Big deal!"_ Why is this conversation even happening? _"It's hardly somethin' you go threatening somebody for!"

_"Do not push me," _he growls, in a deadly sort of way._ "I do not like feeling sexually aroused. Especially not for a human. I have not felt that way for many years."_

I giggle, I can't seem to help it. He's downright ridiculous.

_"Don't laugh at me. I will fucking fuck-"_

"Goodbye," I whisper over his shouting furiously. " Oh, and while you're at it, I suggest you get some medication for your anger issues, buddy!"

I hang up, refusing to listen to all his nastiness._ Ha! Take that, Mr. Grumpy Vampire!_

And it felt wonderful, hanging up on this one, truth be told. At least, momentarily. I get back into work, with a new confident bounce in my step. Something about putting somebody in their rightful place is liberating. And this guy sure needed to be knocked down a few notches. I feel proud of myself. I pat myself mentally on the shoulder, and throw in some fist pumps for good effort.

The door clatters open loudly in Merlotte's. A dead-silence creeps through all the customers. Some stare at something behind me, covering their hands over their mouths. An elderly man spills his Diet Coke all over the front of him. I try to ignore it best I can, and approach a young boy waiting to be served.

"Hi there," I smile weakly, because I think I know what's coming. "What can I get you tonight?"

Somebody coughs loudly behind me, and it's not a very nice sound at all; An angry bark, more like it. Oh, Lordy.

"Do you realize what _the fuck_ you've done?" he whispers harshly into the side of my face, breathing all over me. His breathing is harsh and ragged, and ice-cold- exactly like his tone of voice. I blink down at the boy innocently, who's staring between us, his mouth wobbling. He's on the verge of crying, poor soul. His thoughts illustrate how profound his fear is. _Maybe I should be scared, too? Maybe I am. A little. But mostly I'm pissed off. It's a curious mixture, really._

"I beg your pardon?" I laugh out, a little uneasily. "I haven't done nothing to you!"

"Oh, I think you have." He steps closer, if possible, and the tip of his nose touches my cheek. He's trying his very hardest to be intimidating. It's not... exactly... working. "You have done more than enough."

"Personal space," I breathe, trying to calm myself. "Haven't you heard of it?" I try to push him away with my hand, but he's too much strength and hard muscle. And then he's holding me in place with a hand curling over the nape of my neck tightly. I can't even move my head, for Christ sake. "I'm guessing not, since you're so eager to break it, Mister."

And then he slips in front of me and I just have to endure looking at his face. His clasp tightens over the back of my neck, so I have no choice but to stare_ right_ at him. Those eyes... they regard me intently, scanning down the entirety of my face. A few times, they flit down to my lips and, fearfully, I get the impression that he is going to kiss the life out of me, but luckily he doesn't. I hope he sees my anger, and my frustration. His lips are parted as he breathes roughly. His nose scrunches the slightest bit with all his pent-up rage. _Yeah, definitely some anger management issues right there._

"Even now... it flutters," he grumbles deeply. "What the fuck is that? It never does. Not for anyone."

I stare up at him in disgust. "What?" Hell, I don't even know what he's talking about. Crazy vampire. It would sure help a whole lot if I could hear his thoughts.

"What have you done to me?" he says unsteadily. He's blaming me for something- that much I can pick up on. How rude.

"Like I said, I haven't done nothing to you!"

"This is disgusting." He shoves himself away from me and straightens out his jacket, looking like an extremely confused vamp. Without warning, he jabs a forefinger at me threateningly. I flinch, much to my disliking. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction at all, in seeing how spooked out he's gotten me. And I felt I was doing well - up until this point. "You will pay for this. Mark my words, you_ will_ pay."

"What the hell am I payin' for, Mister?" I shout, losing it. "Like I said, you need medication or something!" _What a confusing S.O.B!_

I feel my skin colouring up in all my anger. Never have I felt so irritated in my entire life.

"Goodbye," he spits out, and trudges to the door. He pauses, and turns to look at me over his shoulder. And then he lifts a hand, touches his chest, and shakes his head vigorously. He throws open the door, and then he's... gone._ What the-? What the hell have I gone and done to cause this vamp to get so angry?_


	3. Drunken Dare

_**I want to thank you all so much for your lovely reviews. They all made me laugh, and smile, and I'm very humbled that you all seem to enjoy the story in all it's silliness. :-) Hope you enjoy this one! I apologize for any mistakes! **_

* * *

_**Chapter Three**_

I knew I ought to have stayed far away from Fangtasia, as to avoid the unpleasant wrath of Eric Northman's anger. But I liked the bar. I enjoyed going there, and not even an angry vampire could stop me, despite my heart telling me it was best for me. Next night, Tara and I get ready to head out to Fangtasia again. I'm not completely sure how I'm feeling; Nervous, on-edge over the possibility of running into Eric Northman again, after what he did so rudely at Merlotte's last night. What I'm mainly hoping for, I suppose, is that if we do so-happen to run into one another again, I'll get the chance to sort out this dispute between us, once and for all. I find his anger unjustified. After all, I hadn't done much to him. At least, not something you would actively threaten somebody for.

"Tara, do you think this is too much?" I ask self-consciously, turning around to look at her. I'm wearing a fairly conservative dress; A yellow, floral-patterned one, with a high neckline. My Grandmother doesn't like me wearing clothes that are too revealing, even at my age.

She snorts. "Sook, it's a_ vampire_ bar. How can there possibly be such a thing as 'too-much'?" She rolls her eyes and flips through a few pages in the magazine she's reading on my bed. "Besides, you saw the way half the women were dressed in there. Short skirts, fish-net stockings, lacy bras. Pretty Gothic, revealing shit."

I'm still undecided. I unwind my hair from its tight ponytail, letting it fall artfully midway down my back and shoulders. But at least Tara's wearing a dress also, so I don't feel half as out-of-place, since she is.

I'm real nervous about Eric Northman being there, though. He's the boss, he runs the place, so most likely he will be around there... _somewhere_. I can only pray he's more nicer to me this time, and that he doesn't yell at me in front of everybody. Though, something tells me, I'm inviting myself in for trouble._ I always seem to be lately. Especially in these past few days, with the vampire._

* * *

Fangtasia tonight is hectic, and busy. We have to wait over twenty minutes before we reach the same female vampire as before. To both our surprise and astonishment, she doesn't card us this time. Maybe she remembers us? She lets us go straight on in, not before winking at Tara and gazing after her longingly as we enter. The instance we reach inside, I'm searching around cautiously for the vampire, Eric Northman. To my delight, I don't see him anywhere in the premises. This makes it a whole lot easier. How was I meant to react around him after he so rudely entered my workplace last night and literally yelled at me, meanwhile scaring half of the customers? I just did not want to have to deal with his anger issues again. Not only was it unnerving, but I didn't know how to act around him. The more effort I put into keeping away from him, the better. So, to say I was relieved when I took in that he was nowhere in the bar, was an understatement. All the jittery nerves left my body almost instantly.

"Let's make a dare," Tara says excitedly, as we finally manage to squeeze our way over to the bar. "Whoever doesn't manage to shoot down both shot glasses first, they've got to dance on the stripper pole in front of everyone!"

I ought to have known better, but really, who can resist a good, old dare?

"You're on, Tara Thornton!"

The bartender lines out our shots- two for me, two for Tara- and we're ready to roll.

We raise our shot glasses, ready to shoot away.

"Ready?" Tara says challengingly.

"Readier than I'll ever be, bitch," I fire back, playfully.

She starts the count down. _One, two, three._ And we're off. I slam the first tequila shot down, and gasp as it seeps down my throat, burning the lining of my stomach. Just as I snatch up the second and final one, it occurs to me Tara has already beat me to it. She's won on this one. I sigh glumly, as she stares at me in triump.

"Dammit," I growl, slapping the counter with my palm loudly. _Why do I always lose? Seriously!_

"Sucked in, bitch," she laughs jubilantly. "Now you know what you gotta do. Get on up there to that pole, and shake it!"

"You ladies sure do know how to party," a man comments beside us, with a heavy accent. Tara and I turn to look at him at the same time; He's watching us, his eyes an incredibly dark grey. His hair is dark, and he has a heavy, uneven fringe, making the whiteness of his skin almost sickening. Everything about him screams vampire; To his old-fashioned dress sense, to the old sideburns. His lips are twisted into an amused smile, as he turns a True Blood bottle over and over with his fingers.

"Fuck yeah, we do," Tara says, proudly snaking her arm around my shoulder. I smile at the man nervously, and he smiles back, giving me a whopping big, open-mouthed grin. Fangs. _Whoa, mama._

He moves over to get closer to me, settling an elbow on the bar. Something about him makes me incredibly uneasy, for some reason, and it isn't just because he is simply a vampire. "Aren't you a creature of great beauty?" he remarks, giving me a once-over. I'm flustered by his remark. _How odd. It isn't any day you're picked up by a vampire, I guess._

"Why, thank you." I'm sincerely flattered. But before I can get into making simple introductions, Tara is shoving her elbow into my gut. I give her a _why-are-you-being-so-rude_ stare.

"Sook, isn't there something you've got to do?" she asks, giving me a meaningful look.

_Hmm. Oh, that's right! There is! I've got a dare to complete!_

Reluctantly, I turn to look at the vacant pole in the middle of the room. My insides swarm with nerves. The reasonable side of me knows it isn't a smart thing to do, but a dare is a dare, and Tara won, and I lost. There's no way I can back out of it now.

"Fine, Tara," I tell her, making up my mind. Maybe it's something in the tequila that's making me feel incredibly brave, but without another glance at her, I strut over towards the lonely, unused pole on the stage. Opposite it, is what looks like an empty chair. _Why would there be an empty chair randomly placed at center stage? Beats me. Or maybe it's there for people to sit in and admire the view of a pole-dancing lady?_

Grabbing onto the long bar with both hands tightly, I try to hook my leg over it. Unfortunately, my leg doesn't exactly stretch that far. I find myself sort of envious for the ladies that do this daily, and their flexibility. Not to mention, it's far too slippery. My leg slides down. _Jesus, this is going to be a hard dare to fulfil._ I manage to twirl around ungracefully, and much to my mortification, I notice a few men have stopped dancing to watch. One man leers at me, blatantly, and wishes I wasn't wearing a dress. Feeling my face grow as red as a tomato, I turn in the aim of pretending I'm doing this in the privacy and comfort of Gran's house. _No big deal, Sook. Think of it as some harmless exercise._ My stomach sinks, as my shame increases. Now I've got another unwanted spectator, and it isn't just any man. It's _Eric Northman_ himself. I don't know how he got in the room so fast, but somehow he managed it.

Our eyes lock instantly.

Now I think I know why nobody was sitting in that chair, because it's _his_ chair, and his alone. He shifts in the chair slightly- uncomfortably- once I think it truly settles into his mind exactly _who_ it is attempting to dance on the pole closest to his chair, and failing miserably while she's at it. My heartbeat quickens when he holds my gaze, impassively, steadily, without movement whatsoever. Does he even breathe? He's so still, it's creepy. But I know he's not a very pleased vampire, to say the least. I just know it, and I hardly even know the man one bit. He just comes across as such a Mr. Grumpy Pants to me.

The lights are a bit dim in the area where he is sitting across from me, so half of his face is all shadowy and I can't make any of what he's feeling out clearly. He's definitely watching me, though- that much I can tell. His hands are relaxed in his lap, and he's dressed in a black button-up shirt and dark jeans, with huge combat boots. All the black clothes... they make him blend into the shadows easily. No wonder I never noticed him, until now.

I feel a sudden, profound urge to flee, and I try to. I swing my leg off the pole, but then I seem to stagger forward by accident. Holy shit. It's too warm in here, too warm with his eyes on me, looking at my body critically. Too bright, too dark. Too _everything_. Too loud. _Too-_ my head begins to swim, and suddenly, Eric Northman is standing directly below me, with the heated appearance of a salivating dog that wants my flesh. How? What? When? And then his stern face is moving to mine, or at least it seems so. The last thing I hear, before I fall and topple into something solid and strong, is his voice shouting in my ear.

"Fucking stupid humans. What _the fuck_ is this?"

* * *

When I wake, my head pounds brutally like I've only just been beaten with a hammer. Wrinkled, dry fingers poke and prod at my face, giving me a strange massage above my forehead and around my temples. When I force my lids open, an elderly woman's face is right in mine. Her lipstick is a vile bright green. Her earrings have weird blue diamonds in them, that glint below her ear lobes every which way she moves.

"Are you awake?" she asks, in a small voice, sounding like she doesn't actually care, either way.

I nod, swallowing, unable to break the gaze of the bewildering woman nursing me.

"Alcoholic intoxication," the dwarf lady says, looking me straight in the eyes with her luminous green ones. "It is a relatively harmless and common human ailment. Symptoms include slurred speech, drowsiness and altered vision, and usually an increased libido. But it'll pass within two hours with the consumption of greasy, hot foods. Fainting spells occur occasionally, which is what she just experienced. But the human will survive, Mr. Northman."

_Mr. Northman? Oh, crap_. He's here. The grumpy vampire. Tears sting my eyes, as I force them open again. Everything is far too bright, too blurry for my senses. My gaze instantly falls on something above me- a lightbulb on the ceiling. The brightness causes my eyes to weep, and I blink back the moisture frantically. Last thing I want to do is cry in front of him.

Once my eyes adjust again, I find Mr. Grumpy before me, looking down at me where I lay. His arms are crossed, and he's scowling. He loves being around me. Not.

"Well, I'm done," the lady says, jumping off the desk. She's so short I can't even see her. "When I check my bank account tomorrow, Mr. Northman, I expect my payment to be straight in there." Jesus, that's blunt.

He grunts at her absently, nodding; his eyes still on me. The door of his office bustles open and then closes, and then, I'm presuming, the odd woman is gone. The silence filling the room is pitiful.

I smile up at him weakly. I wish I could die right now. I wish something would mysteriously happen to me.

"You are lucky you're not my human," he says from where he is standing across from me, looking and sounding dangerously aggravated.

"What the hell does that mean?" I choke out. _His human? Does he forget that we're all sentient beings that have a mind of our own?_

"Well, if you were mine, you would be sore and requiring scarves for weeks after that disgraceful little stunt you played tonight in front of my guests. You got intoxicated, and you danced on a stripper's pole, all with the sole intent of irritating me." He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, gnashing his teeth. Mr. Angry Vampire has returned yet again. Whoopee. "If anything, I should kill you for your outright display of disobedience in my club. It's gotten to a point where I have to wonder if you're doing this purposefully to ruin me." When he reopens his eyes, he glares down at me with a cool gleam in his blue eyes.

I sit up slowly, feeling something light sticking to the back of my thighs. Paper. I'm lying on his desk. Why am I on his desk, of all things? "Yes, because everything I do in life is with the goal of getting on your bad side, Mister," I retort sarcastically, feeling my temper soar. He is so ridiculous, and arrogant. Like my life revolves around making him even more grumpy than he naturally is. Something tells me it doesn't take much for this one to get into a sour mood, because that's already how he is in general. "Do you ever have fun?"

"Fun?" He quirks an eyebrow at me. "Is that what you call it? Getting yourself all pathetic?"

"I bet you're the life of the party," I shoot back tartly.

"Clearly, my version of fun is far different from yours," he mutters dryly. "It is usually at the expense of others. For example, killing you would cause me great amusement. You are the most irritating human I've ever met, and I've met many during my very long lifetime."

"And you're the most irritating vampire I've ever met. I think we're even," I hiss. Rather instead of getting him even more cheesed-off, he laughs quietly and, again, like on the phone last night, it leaves an unsettling effect on me.

"And just how many vampires have you met?" he asks, calling my bluff. He's grinning wickedly. He knows he is the only one, obviously.

"Just you."

"Exactly." He nods curtly, like it's a point well made in his eyes.

"How'd you know to contact me at Merlotte's last night?" I ask warily. It's been haunting me ever since. After all, I don't know him, and he sure as hell doesn't know me.

He leans closer to me on his elbows, and taps his temple with a forefinger. "I know everything."

"Sure, you do. Are you stalking me, Mister?"

His mouth lifts slightly. "You wish I was stalking you."

"You have some kind of vendetta out on me, because I ruined your precious vampire ego."

He ducks his head and stares down at his hands that are clasped out in front of him, oddly enough looking like he is trying to hide a grin. "You have a very vivid imagination. But trust me, stalking you would make you important, and you aren't important to me in the slightest." He lifts his eyes back to mine and I groan, affronted. "On a more serious note, I have my methods. I have contacts, and finding you is as easy to me as killing a whore before she even realizes my intentions."

It still doesn't entirely explain how he knew to contact me at Merlotte's, but I'll take it. Maybe he did have a whole lot of contacts in his phone book? He's old as dirt, according to Tara, anyhow. I mightn't know how old that is exactly, but whatever.

"Is it true that you once bit off a fangbanger's entire left nipple?" The instance it comes flying out of my slurry mouth, I wish I had the ability to suck it back in. Holy ass. Did my verbal filter somehow mysteriously chip away due to the alcohol I've consumed in the last two and a half hours, making me far more incredibly braver than I was at first around him?

He looks like he is just dying to laugh at that silly question.

"I've bitten off many body parts in my time, Miss. Stackhouse," he says, completely deadpan. And there's no second guessing on that, with the sincerity in his expression. "Human nipples, I am pleased to say are... _not_ one of them. Would even _you_ like to bite off a nipple?" I know he's not truly asking me that; He is just trying to make a point, and he makes a very good one.

"No," I whisper, horrified at the idea of even biting off anything. "I don't think I'd like to bite anything. I'm not a cannibal." My head whirls, when it takes me a second to realize he has named me by my last name. He knows my last name, too? Super. "How'd you even know my name?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I don't recall ever telling you." I would never reveal it to anyone like him, to be completely honest.

"Like I said, it all comes down to who you know," he says cryptically. "And I know everyone."

"Clearly not on a friendly level," I mutter, before I'm able to stop myself. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to be your friend."

_Oops_. His mouth pinches into a tight line, and he levels a dangerous look onto me. "Watch your fucking mouth, Human," he mutters quietly, but with a deadly edge. And then he stands fluidly and shoves his hands into his trouser pockets. Maybe he's creating a safe distance between us so he can stop himself in time from murdering me? Hell, if I know. All I know, is that I'm very appreciative of that distance. He turns away from me, so that I'm left with no choice but to scowl at his back. "Can I get you something?" he asks, surprising me. Well, that was unexpected. Here I was, thinking I was a second's away from being murdered, and now here he is, asking if I need anything in a calm voice. Very admirable, his restraint, I do have to admit. "A drink?"

He's asking me if I would like a drink, in my half-tipsy state? Oookay then.

"Well, since I'm here I might as well have my forth Gin and Tonic," I answer confidently, as a joke. "And since you're asking, you can bet your ass you're payin' for it, Mister."

His entire back and shoulders stiffen at my words, before I see him shake it off with a vigorous head shake. Clearly, I've put my foot in my mouth again. _Oh, how I enjoy annoying this one._

"No more alcohol for you," he mutters at me, his back still facing me. "Water is a safe bet, otherwise you're going to be fucked up in the morning."

He leaves no room for argument, when he jabs a finger roughly into that machine on his desk.

"A glass of water," he yells at somebody on the other line bluntly, very charmingly. "Ice. Lemon." No please, or thank you thrown in there whatsoever. I can just tell he gets his way, and often. He gets off on ordering people around; That much, is clear.

And obviously it's a sin to keep this vampire waiting. A man with matted, black long-hair knocks on the door with a glass of chilled water in his hand- I'm fairly sure he's a vampire also, by the looks of it. He runs his dark eyes around the confines of this Eric Northman's office, before they fall onto me. He gives me a slightly daunting, toothy grin, and nods at me, appraising my legs in my dress. It's only when his lips split apart into a huge, sleazy smile, that I notice those fangs. Half his teeth are missing on the top row, making them noticeably far more obvious than it would be had he still had his regular, human teeth in tact.

This Eric Northman notices this guy's salacious staring, and his expression hardens. Oh, no. He doesn't look pleased one bit. He tears the glass out of his extended hand and shoves him out into the doorway in his haste. Then he slams the door straight in his face, and swears underneath his breath. He turns away so that his back is facing me, and he gives out an odd grunting noise as I spot him lifting a hand to his mouth. I watch him carefully, stunned. _What on earth is he doing to my water?_

He gives me a stiff smile, as he approaches the desk. "Here you go." He hands me the glass of water roughly. "Drink up."

I'm about to take a sip, when it occurs to me that he's watching me far too closely, judging my reaction. My suspicion rises, when I peer into the glass cautiously. Has he slipped some sort of drug in there? Or some poison to end me, maybe? I peer through the dewy glass. Something red is floating in it, swirling around. Oh, Lordy. Has he slipped me some of his blood? Why would he possibly do that? My throat tightens in all my indecision. I don't know whether I should still drink it or not, but he is clearly expecting that of me. He doesn't take his eyes off me, not even once, while he waits. He lifts an eyebrow expectantly, goading me on. Yeah, this isn't looking very good.

But I just do it anyway, so that he'll let me alone. Who knows what he'll do to me? After all, I believe he has made it very clear he doesn't like me all that much. He's not very fond of my behaviour. Holding his gaze, I purse my lips over the cool glass, and take in the smallest mouthful I can manage. And one sip is obviously more than enough to satisfy him; His demeanour takes on a rapid change, almost instantly. His expression softens, in both relief and private humour. He chuckles underneath his breath shakily. _Yes, he has definitely slipped in some of his blood._

"Better?" he asks, sounding darkly amused.

I moan in agreement, nodding my head vigorously. Once he turns away from me, surruptiously- at least, I'm hoping it is- I pour the rest of the contents on the carpet underneath his desk. Including the lemon and ice. Shit. It's way too obvious. If he dares to look underneath his desk, or even bothers to sit down, I have no doubts he'll discover it immediately. He turns to give me a side-long look, and I hold my breath. I think he's realized, I hardly think he is the one that you can let anything go past him, without him noticing. But then he takes in my empty glass with his eyes, and takes a slow step closer to where I'm sitting. He rests his hands on the desk, and leans down to peer into it. A funny expression flits across his face, and I can feel my heart soaring away frantically in my chest. Am I about to be caught out? Will he yell? He just loves to yell at me.

"What happened to the lemon and the ice?" he asks tonelessly, blinking at me. It's hardly the question I was hoping for him to ask. He's sincerely confused.

Dammit. How do I answer this, at least plausibly so it won't rouse his suspicions? "Uhm, I'm awfully hungry, Mister," I manage in a hopelessly breathless and anxious tone. "I ate it." For a moment, he stares me down, disbelieving. But when I lick my lips, and throw in a few hammy moans for good measure, he seems to drop it by cocking his head to the side dismissively.

"Hungry?"

"Yep."

"That makes two of us," he says, voice throaty, his eyes lighting up with perverted amusement. _Is this the part where he murders me?_

"What can I say? I am a very, _very_ hungry girl. I just love my food. I love ice, and lemons. I eat everything I can get my mouth on."

He stares at me, bemused. Then he slowly licks his lips, and I feel my entire face burning. He's hungry for something else. _Me, perhaps?_

I swallow thickly underneath that intensely hungry look for me; my mouth dry.

He reaches over and tucks a loose strand of my hair back behind my earlobe, watching me dead-on with unblinking eyes while he does it. Even something as harmless as brushing back my hair, is rather disconcerting. I guess that's the look he is aiming for, though, because as I wriggle underneath his unapologetic scrutiny of me a bit, the corner of his mouth curls in satisfaction; Never have I known a man to be so intimidating. He gives me the creepy-crawlies- and not entirely in such a bad way.

"Where the fuck did you hear that, anyway?" he asks, starting off some conversation we had previously.

It completely throws me off. "Hear what?" Weren't we both just talking casually about how hungry we were here seconds ago? What a way to throw me in a loop.

"About the fucking nipple." _Yes- because it's not a real conversation for Eric Northman, unless he throws a few nasty swear- words into the mix._

"I've heard a lot of wicked, and sordid tales about you in the past few days, Mister," I admit, my throat all raspy and sore. "Truth be told, you don't sound like a very pleasant vampire at all."

He looks pleased by my assessment, as though me finding him 'unpleasant' is a compliment. "Oh, really?" he asks softly, raising his eyebrows. I've gotten him intrigued. "What more of it?"

"Also, that you get your socks off scaring little children."

"Yes, I do, and I will shamelessly admit that while I do despise them, they are hilarious to be around." He smiles, but the smile doesn't really touch his eyes. "Especially when they are frightened, and you alarm them so hard that they literally piss themselves. Miniature human's are just bundles of joy."

"You sound like you invest a whole lot of time around children just for the sake of scaring the living daylights out of them," I say angrily in disgust. _How terrible, that a grown-man could love scaring children so much. All those poor little children._

"Between you and me, Halloween is my favorite festivity of the year. When the children are out in the street, in their shitty vampire costumes, and all alone, completely defenseless- _that's_ where the fun truly begins."

My mouth drops open. _Maybe he was just as despicable as the rumours I had heard from Tara and Lafayette depicted him as?_ If so, then it's hardly a surprise that I'm so uncomfortable around him. I'm uncomfortable, yet, slightly... I feel at peace around him, because I can't hear his thoughts and the room is dead silent between us, with no annoying wave-lengths of thoughts to serve as interruption. It's odd.

"Should you be prone to violent fits of emotion in your state?" Jesus Christ. Where is my verbal filter tonight?

"What state is that?" he asks tersely.

"Your heartless state." I guess, with some alcohol in my system, it does definitely make me far more bolder than usual. Ordinarily, I would think twice about asking a vampire such personal questions. Only, he hardly seems he minds. He seems actually quite... entertained.

He eyes me warily for a moment, before he purses his lips. "You_ could_ say I'm heartless, yes. But up until two days ago, I never knew I still actually had one." His answer puzzles me completely. I don't know what he means at all. So, does that mean he actually did cut his own heart out to sell it on E-Bay? Or is he trying to say he didn't? "Now it's constantly fluttering. I feel like a fucking infatuated teenager." He looks distressed; his blue eyes wide. I catch the entire length of his body shudder. My heart twists in pity for him, for some reason. I'm sure he doesn't need my sympathy- he sure seems like he can handle himself- but I can't help the way I feel.

I don't know what to say in response to that, so I simply stare at him in silence. I hardly think I can come up with any helpful words, anyhow. He zones out for a few minutes, stuck in his brain, and it's a little disconcerting. He simply stares at me wordlessly, a bit like he is counting the number of eye-lashes I have. Or like he is searching my face for any hideous flaws. I can find plenty, and I don't need anybody else looking for them. And then, almost as if he can feel my discomfort, he closes his eyes. He looks strained, almost as if he is holding himself back with mightysome effort from doing something to me, anything. I hope that something isn't biting my neck, and sipping my blood.

"Are you all right?" I ask, unable to hide my concern.

_Poor big guy._ He looks so confused, so vulnerable. I think about reaching out and touching him as a way to comfort him, and after a moment's worth of indecision, I do. I reach out and touch the side of his smooth cheek with my fingers. His eyes instantly pop open the second my fingers brush against his cool skin, and I almost feel him tremble underneath the tips of them.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he whispers, his voice low.

"Comforting you?" _Christ, isn't it obvious?_

"Well, don't," he growls through clenched teeth, eyeing me frostily. "I am _not_ a fucking child!"

I whip my hand away, holding it against my chest. "Oh, my God," I laugh out loud in furious exasperation. "You are one confusing son of a bitch! Can't a girl do something nice without you getting in a huff!"

"It's not helping."

"Helping what?" I ask desperately, trying to rein in my temper. Jesus, he's so uptight. "_Why_ are you like this?"

"This is all your fault," he yells, raising his voice. Always yelling. "Ever since you showed up that night, forcing me to dance with you. And then..." He groans and his mouth twists in disgust. "How you touched me. It never would have happened if you hadn't!"

"Excuse me?" I gasp out, stunned. Now he is back to blaming me again, like he had the night before at Merlotte's. I swear I haven't done nothing to him. At least, nothing I'm aware of. He's so certain I've done something, when I don't even know what it is. "All right," I start firmly, squaring my shoulders, "Let's get to this issue right now. No more dodging it. Tell me what I've done to you, Mister, because I sure would like to know if you're gonna start blaming me for something I don't understand!"

He stares at me, blaring with hatred and rage, but I will not be the one backing down here.

"Well?" I prompt bitterly, after a moment of silence on his end.

"It's _you_," he says firmly. He's not yelling anymore; He's trying not to raise his voice, thank God. I don't think I can much handle anymore of his yelling.

"So, what have I done?" I whisper, dead-set on dealing with it, once and for all. But clearly he doesn't want that; He doesn't want to talk to me at all. He simply gazes at me, and it's obvious he isn't going to reveal anymore. _What a frustrating vampire._

"_Don't_ go searching for answers into certain things you won't understand," he snaps, running a hand over his face in exasperation. He thinks I won't understand? What does he think I am? That I have the intelligence of a two-year-old? What a bastard.

"Oh, no. I think I understand the issue here completely," I mutter, confident on that. "I think you're just scared."

"Scared of a weak human, like you?" He laughs scornfully underneath his breath. Well, I'm glad I've made him laugh. "Unlikely."

"Not just me, per se. But you're scared of how I make you feel. That was the reason for the telephone call at my work, wasn't it?" As his jaw clenches with tension at my words, I can tell I've hit the right nail on the head in what I'm saying. "You've been constructing all these walls for yourself, haven't you? Walls that steer people away from you, and cause them to be wary of getting too close to you. You're afraid that somebody is willing enough to try." I reach out and grasp the lapels of his shirt. His eyes widen and his breath hitches. "You'd like me to stay away from you, wouldn't you? You'd like for me to react like all the rest?" His lips part as he starts breathing shallowly. I catch a quick glimpse of his white, long fangs. "I bet you'd just love that."

He actually refuses to look at me. He looks past my head, since he is so tall. He won't look at me at all. "Yes," he whispers hoarsely, nodding his agreement. "Yes, I would."

"Well, it isn't gonna happen." I tug on his shirt fiercely, pulling him closer to me. "You don't scare me, Mister. In fact, I _almost_ feel sorry for you."

He inhales sharply at my words. "Why's that?" He looks so fearful, like a little boy. It's almost tragically laughable; He is the big, bad vampire here. He's no doubt certainly stronger than me. _So, why on earth would he be frightened of getting too close to me? Shouldn't it really be the other way around?_

"Because you're lonely," I state strongly, and he groans. "I bet you've never had somebody like me not falling for your scare-tactics, and it intimidates you, because you don't know how to react to me."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do, Mister."

"I don't! You're making assumptions, and ridiculous ones at that."

"You know that isn't it," I tell him. His hands come up onto my shoulders, and he attempts to push me back against the desk. He grabs my hands in his tightly, and pushes them away from his shirt, his eyes closed. He backs away from me quickly, almost as if afraid of what more damage I'll do to him. I try to control my breathing. All this defiant talking and clothes-grabbing has worked me up a sweat. "Anyway, I'll be coming here to your bar often, whether you like it or not, Mister. I like it here. I like the... silence. It's a good place to clear my head."

"Ah, yes, that silence." He turns to look at me, still affected over my words. "You're not just human, are you?"

Now the tables are turned onto me. Now it's my time to feel invaded emotionally.

"I am, thank you very much," I whisper, pretending to be affronted.

"No. You are something... _greater_ than human. There is something... different about you. I mightn't know what that is, but I'm keen on finding it out."

"You shouldn't be," I whisper, finding myself scared by the strong desperation in his tone of voice. "There ain't nothing special about me, really."

It was a touchy subject for me, my mind reading abilities. I have worked my ass off over the years to try and keep everyone else around me ignorant into my disability- aside from a few closest and trustworthy folks, of course. There was Tara, my older brother Jason, and my Grandmother, who knew of my little talent. Sometimes I had slip-ups of course, where I would accidentally lose myself and answer to somebody's thoughts out loud in the open, and leave them a bubbling, confused mess afterwards. But the least who knew of it, the better.

"Oh, I think there is." He stares at me intently, contemplating me with suspicion. "What are you?"

"I'm as human as a human can get." Aside from my telepathy skills, of course. But I didn't feel all that different from the rest, aside from that aspect.

"Bullshit," he spits out dubiously. "You are something, and it isn't entirely just human. Your smell. It's... different." My smell is different? And clearly it's an obvious difference by the way he says it. Thoughtfully. Appreciatively. "You smell of summer." The way he announces it, so hungrily, it sends a shiver through my bones. "Sunlight. Trees."

Trees? Now he's getting ridiculous. I never knew I smelt... different. Then again, no one's ever commented on my smell so bluntly like he is.

He steps closer towards me, licking his lower lip, and this is when alarm bells ring off inside my head. This is the part where I finally get murdered. Since I have enough drive to survive inside me, I twist my legs off the side of his desk and slide off onto my feet.

"You know there is something different about you. You know..." He trails off, taking another step closer towards me, and I have to step back against his desk. "What is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mister." I try to sound confused, but my hoarse voice fails me. I sound exactly as creeped out as I feel.

"You do. Tell me what you are."

_What am I?_ Because I hardly know so myself.

Reaching out, he touches the base of my neck with the back of a hand; his knuckles sliding down the curved hollow of my throat. I gulp loudly, feeling my throat twitching against his skin. His eyes hold mine searchingly, and I try to stare back into them without blinking- as much as I can control it. But a girl has to blink, sooner or later. One blink is more than enough time he needs to catch me utterly off-guard. His hand shoots up to my hair, and he fists it, while the other one goes underneath my chin, yanking my face upwards. And then suddenly, his mouth is on top of mine, and I don't know why it frightens me, but it does. I feel the adrenaline racing throughout my entire body, thrilling me, when he whimpers against my lips in a strange, carnal longing. _So much for killing me..._


	4. Out Of The System

******I own nothing to do with True Blood. Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews, and the alerts I've received on this. Hoping you enjoy this one. :)**

* * *

******Chapter Four**

This vampire was confusing.

How did we go from a demanding conversation asking me what I was- to _this_? To him literally attacking me with his mouth? I was clueless. But I couldn't say it was half as bad as I thought it would be, in him kissing me.

His age does show. Well, at least his experience does. His hand musses my hair, while he expertly tilts his head to the side with ease, latching onto my mouth. I've never quite been kissed like this. He just takes total control, sending my head in a whirl. How did mere talking progress into this? How did- And then, suddenly, he's pulling away, leaving me a dazed mess, maybe aching for more. His expression softens into shock, like he is completely surprised by his sudden bout of kissing himself. And then, it hardens with fierce resolve, and he's hauling me out of his office by the wrist. I don't even get enough time to catch my breath.

"Come," he orders, but I already am anyhow, since his grip is so tight. It's hardly necessary. "I have something to show you." I stumble behind him, when he takes an abrupt change in direction. We're not going to the dance floor. We're not going into the main room filled with people. So, where the hell did that leave us to go?

He brings me around to a door, leaving me feeling confused.

Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocks the metal door and cranks it open. He stands back so that I can go in.

"I haven't had a human down here in years," he says quietly, sounding a little breathless with excitement. "It's probably rusty." I can't help but get the feeling he's about to show me something dirty. I gaze up at him suspiciously, only that expression doesn't give much away. Maybe he has learned to control it, and use it to his advantage to lure people in? Taking a deep breath, I peek through the door anxiously. It's far too dark. I can't see anything at all. "Well, go in," he says, waving a hand around impatiently.

Do I even want to know what's down there? Should I go in, or am I only inviting myself in for a quick and easy kill? I don't exactly want to be walking into a trap. Reading his thoughts would have sure helped me prepare for this right now. I'm not sure what to expect at all.

"What's down there, Mister?" I ask, unable to hide the anxiety infecting my voice. "Why am I going down there?"

"Because I want to show you something," he says again simply. It's hardly reassuring.

"And just what exactly are you showin' me?"

"Go in and see for yourself."

I stare him down suspiciously, but it's obvious I'm not going to get the proper answer I'm seeking.

"Fine," I sigh resignedly.

Taking a deep breath, and folding my hands over my stomach tightly as if it'll help me in some way, I step through the doorway. A light suddenly blinks on, illuminating everything. Are they censor lights, or did he just turn them on himself? All I know, is that I'm immediately thankful that they are on. Somehow, it isn't as creepy when I can see. And what I see before me, is a set of concrete steps. Some are damp with water, like they've been washed down recently. Blood splatters are trailing down the stairs, and I can tell its fresh blood. Terrifyingly, I wonder what's been killed down here recently. Am I going to be next? I can't say I'm too jolly about that possibility. Then again, I hardly think death is anything a person can prepare themselves for easily.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" His voice comes from right behind my shoulder. It must be a vampire thing, moving so quickly. "Go down the fucking steps. It's right down there."

The uneasiness I'm feeling amplifies. What on earth is he intending to show me?

"Will I die if I go down there?"

He huffs out a shaky laugh in my ear from behind me, giving me the chills. Always trying to get into my personal space, this one. "Are you fucking retarded?" he whispers wryly. "Just go down the steps already."

"No, thank you," I murmur hurriedly. "I think I've seen more than enough, Mister."

"Oh, I hardly believe you've seen enough yet."

I turn hastily to make my escape, and much to my horror he is standing right behind me, blocking the exit. He's staring down at me intently with those creepy shining blue eyes, and it's really hard to tell what he is thinking- or feeling, if he even feels. Great. I'm stuck. But at least I'm not completely defenseless. I know a few ways to defend myself; I've still got my knees, and my feet, and my hands, and my fingers. I can easily knee him in the groin if need be, though something tells me dealing with a vampire is harder stuff than with a regular man. But he would react like any regular man would if I knee him where it hurts most, right? I sure hope so. Then again, he's a big guy. In fact, almost the tallest I've ever seen. At least finding his precious manly jewels would be easy as breathing for me, since it's more or less the quickest place for me to find.

Only, something tells me it'll take more than just a swift knee to this vampire to take him down entirely.

Tara's words instantly come into mind, worrying me: _"He's real dangerous, Sook... I heard somewhere that the older the vampire is, the stronger he is... And you groped the oldest, most powerful vampire in_ _Louisiana!" _Could that be true, all that Tara said?

"Here, maybe it'll help more if I hold your hand," he says, holding one out to me. But I can tell by the way he voices the suggestion that it's hardly an action digestible to him. Clearly even so much as skin-to-skin contact with a human is disgusting to this one, but he manages to hide it well, when without my permission, he takes my hand, leading me to the staircase. Somehow, it isn't as scary with him leading the way. Maybe I can catch him off-guard by running when the time does come for me to make my escape? I certainly hope so.

He leads me down the stairs slowly, and I have to grip onto the steel railing for support. Even the cold metal on the railing feels sticky, and grotty. The first thing that hits me, as we reach the last step, is the smell: Something is obviously rotting away in here, and it doesn't smell all that nice. It isn't very pleasant, and I think I about spot the source immediately; Lying against the stone wall closest to my left, is what looks like a human skeleton. Their flesh has already rotted off, so all that's left of them is bare, dirty bones. My fear builds, turning my stomach. I just don't understand why he decided I needed to come down here for. A few more dry splotches of blood are strewn across the stone walls. Is this some sort of dungeon the vampires at Fangtasia use to entrap humans? It looks that way.

"Here she is," he says, voice quiet and soft, stopping stock-still ahead of me. He's looking at something across from where we are standing, but he is blocking my line of view. Holding my breath, I step closer into his side, clutching onto his hard, cold hand for dear life. I'm hoping he doesn't mind that. Well, it's not like his hand will break if I hold onto it far too tightly, after all.

When I look at what he's staring at, it's hardly what I'm expecting at all.

Chains are suspended off the high ceiling, all rusty and brown. Shackles dangle from the ends of the chains, obviously in place for restraining something or... someone. I'm praying he isn't expecting that person to be me. How... _disgusting_.

"Why are you bothering to show me this?" I ask, irritation seeping out with the words. Is this his wicked version of romancing and impressing somebody? I'm hardly impressed in the slightest, mainly scared and sickened.

"Because..." He tilts his head to look down at me, his eyes brightly lit with either dark humour or dirty thoughts. "You and I are going to fuck this out of my system."

I release the breath I've been holding in, feeling my entire body sagging in shock. _Fuck this out of his system? Who the hell says something like that, and in a completely serious manner? What a way to give a girl heart failure. _I wriggle my hand out of his hand quickly, reeling in revulsion, and place it more suitably against my left thigh.

"I beg your pardon?" I croak out, mystified.

"You heard me," he says, without the slightest trace of humour whatsoever in his expression. And then he makes a seemingly exaggerated movement of his top lip, bringing out those long, glistening fangs with an odd clicking noise. _Jesus Christ, Shepard of Judea. He is being completely serious here!_

"Fuck... _what_ out, Mister?" I don't usually swear, but I'm finding difficulty in trying to reframe his words.

Well, hell. Tara was certainly right: The man is dangerous, and mean. Brutal. But I think I already worked that out the instance I met him.

"This little situation." He points to himself, then to me.

"We have a situation going on here?" I can't even hide the sheer horror in my voice.

"Yes, we _do_."

_Keep him talking, keep him talking, and then everything will be as right as rain,_ my thoughts scream at me. I think I'm going into a deep shock. This wasn't what I was expecting at all, in him bringing me down here. I don't know what to say, or what to even think. What is even an appropriate response to this, when you unknowingly find yourself in an unthinkable situation with a dangerous and maybe sadistic vamp? A vampire who looks horrifyingly determined for it to go his way, for that matter. And seeing the way he orders people around, his fellow vampire employees in Fangtasia, it's obvious he always gets his way. I've never had sex before, so surely it was understandable why I was freaking out right now. I've only been on two dates in high school, and they were brief and unbearable, because I could hear the two boy's thoughts and what they wanted from me, and it instantly turned me off. No way would my first time be experienced with a lunatic vampire, nor would I allow myself to ever be shackled to a wall in order to 'fuck it out of his system', or whatever the hell that means.

No, I always had higher expectations. I didn't think they were high ones; Just me sharing my first time with a sweet man who I loved, and who loved me dotingly in return. Plus, a bed wasn't half bad either. Maybe vampires don't have beds, though? Still, a bed was kind of necessary. Not a cold, dark room with menacing chains. How revolting.

"Look, while I appreciate the offer, I'm going to have to decline on that," I say, as calmly and evenly as I can muster, once I've managed to find my voice.

"Well, tough shit." He shrugs casually and runs his eyes over the room. "This isn't an offer. I do not make offers." His voice is just as careless as his expression. He rubs his hands together, like he's preparing himself for a hearty enjoyable meal, then turns to face me more directly. He eyes me speculatively. "Now, where should we get started? I'm thinking more along the lines of chaining you."

"But I-" I'm left a blubbering mess, staring after him helplessly, when he grabs something hooked to the decrepit wall.

"And this," he says huskily, lifting whatever it is he is holding up at me. Is that leather wrist cuffs or something? "I'm thinking it would be beneficial to use this to cover your mouth. I don't particularly care to hear your voice." He looks as if he is seriously considering this, despite my refusal. He purses his lips, undecided. "Then again, it would be nice to hear your screams." He grunts to himself deeply, and slides the odd item back onto the hook on the wall. "No, I think hearing you is a better way to fuck it out."

Holy ass. The man is completely serious about this. What a total creeper. My breathing is now very shallow, and I feel the fear increasing by the second. Yeah, this entire thing was not turning out the way I wanted it to. I couldn't believe my ears.

"Are you hard of hearing, Mister?" I whisper, feeling very much like a startled cat. "I said no!" I'm feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed, with creepy-crawlies shivering my skin.

He steps closer to me, peering deeply into my eyes with amusement. His pupils are heavily dilated black, over-ruling the blue around them. My Lord. He's totally enjoying this, making me uncomfortable- it's clear as crystal. My adrenaline pulses. I'm getting into defense mode. _It's nearing knee time, Sookie._

"You've gotten me into this. Now you're getting me out of it." He's definitely enjoying my discomfort, no ifs or buts about it. He's looking extremely pleased with himself. Is that a smirk I see? "I am going to enjoy this, Miss Stackhouse, and you _will_ yield to me." His eyes roam down my yellow dress appreciatively. "Well, let's start by getting you out of that fucking dress, shall we?"

"You first, buddy," I mutter furiously. If I can delay this for as long as I'm possible, I might still have some hope at least.

"But I'm _not the one_ wearing a dress," he mumbles deeply, irritated, as if he's misunderstood me. I get a mental image of this six-foot vampire in a dress, and I almost laugh out loud.

"No, I mean _your_ clothes." I try to sound saucy, and- thank my lucky stars- it's convincing.

"Oh?" He leans back from me a fraction, looking stunned. "My human is getting cocky, and would like me to go first?"

I feel a flare of anger so intense at his words, I feel my hands ball up tightly into fists at my sides, my fingernails digging. His human? I'm instantly whirled back to our trying conversations in his office... _If you were mine... you're lucky you're not my human... _

Well, damn straight. I am_ not_ his human.

My intestines squirm with glee.

He looks as if he is silently contemplating my request, and then he shrugs. "Fair enough." His large hands move to the buttons on his shirt. "Suit yourself." Sending me internally squealing in shock, he grasps the black material of his shirt tightly with his fingers and tugs, sparing himself the time it would take to undo it. And yes, _just like that_, buttons are popping off everywhere and there's a whole lot of chest happening before my own pair of unsuspecting eyes.

_So much for me dragging this out. He is clearly one eager vampire to get down and dirty._

He rips it off his muscular shoulders, balls up his shirt in his hands and then throws it carelessly at my feet on the grotty ground. Something tells me he loves getting naked, and showing off his body. And, truth be told, his body is quite the delicious one to behold; He's a total feast for the eyes. Too bad he's creepy and insane.

He gives me a leering, intense look. "Your turn." _What? Are we playing strip-poker or something?_

Keeping my eyes firmly fixated on his chilling hungry ones, I pretend to reach down and grab the ends of my dress. How on earth am I meant to get out of the sticky situation I've gotten myself into? But then... I have an idea. I try to smile cheekily, despite the muscles in my face feeling as if they are frozen and twitchy, and place my hand on the left side of his chest, like a caress. And then I lean in slowly, and it clearly catches him off-guard, because he grunts in confusion. I lay my ear against his cold chest, pretending like I'm searching for any sign of a heartbeat. He wiggles uncomfortably. Unsurprisingly, I can't hear one at all. But he's a dead man, after all.

"What the fuck?" he whispers, sounding confused.

Grabbing my head between his hands, he lifts my head, and stares down at me with wary, fretful blue eyes.

"I'm only just tryin' to find a heartbeat, Mister."

"And did you?" he asks gruffly. He's back to being Mr. Grumpy.

"Nope." I smile up at him softly. It's definitely way too close for comfort, and I don't much like the way he is holding my head, and staring down into my eyes searchingly. I try to hold his gaze anxiously, trying not to let too much of my fear show. I definitely don't like being too close to this one. I swallow dryly, when I see his eyes dart down to my mouth a few times. He's totally devouring me with his eyes. I swallow again, pursing my lips tightly. _Damn it, don't kiss me again, Mister! Don't!_

And then he looks across my head, something catching his attention, and the most oddest expression crosses his features. His mouth pops open slightly, showing the fangs, and his face ashens and drains of color- if that's even possible for a vamp, that is.

"What?" he breathes in astonishment, his voice low. "How is this possible?"

I stare at him, confused, before I turn and look myself. But astoundingly, there is nobody else in the room. I look at him again carefully, following the trail of his gaze. Nope, just the wall. So, who the hell is he talking to? Unless this is another weird vampire thing...

His entire demeanour changes from hungry, horny vampire, to an irritated, provoked angry one.

"What?" he says again curtly. "Don't fucking lecture me like I am a child!" And then he pushes me away and storms over towards the wall, arms crossed over his pale chest. I get the impression he isn't talking to me. But then who is he talking to? There is no one else in here, for goodness sake! He stares at the wall, frowning. It's like he is seeing something nobody else can see, something... invisible. He scoffs at the wall, and throws his hands around. And then, like an explosion, he is yelling. "You make me this way! You fucking taught me this! It was you!" His loud, furious voice echoes along the walls, and blasts into my ears. I wince, and cover them with my hands. _Terrifying._ "Our emotions do not rule us, _we_ rule _them_, Godric!"

_Godric? Who's Godric? And where is he, if he's talking to him?_

He makes an odd strangled choking noise, and his shoulders slump forward in defeat. Unwelcome pity settles within me.

"This is all I know, because of _you_!"

"Mister," I whisper, hopefully in a soothing way, staring anxiously at him as he eyes something on the wall. He clearly ignores me. It's like he can't hear anything at all.

"You taught me this was weak, and that we are greater than this! _You. Fucking. Did_!"

Oh my Lord.

Gasping in a deep breath, I move slowly towards him, a bit scared he'll react badly if I make any sudden movements that startle him. And then, once I see his face more clearly, I realize he looks utterly lost and ravaged, like somebody has pulled out a rug from underneath his feet. I move around him until I'm standing in front of the wall he is glaring at, anxious and on-edge. And then he looks stunned to see me, and he looks down at his shoes quickly, abashed, like it's almost too unbearable for him to look me straight in the eyes. What has happened to him? Poor, troubled vampire man.

"Umh, I..." He whispers, deeply shaken. He runs a hand through his slicked back hair. His hands trembling. Everything is, though. And then, making me jump, the door cranks open from upstairs and I hear a set of heels clacking ruthlessly down the steps. A set of slender pale legs appear, in a pink frilly skirt.

_The lady vampire_.

She looks between us apprehensively with her bright eyes, before they fall onto the very shaken and ashamed Eric Northman. "What the fuck is all this ruckus? I can hear it all the way upstairs."

Eric Northman takes in a deep breath, before levelling his stare onto her. She eyes him warily. Maybe she's seen him like this before? After all, Tara said they were... friends.

"I don't recall requesting your services here, Pam," he seethes.

She crosses her arms, admirably unperturbed by his meanness. "It was Godric again, wasn't it?" Oh, jolly. She knows this Godric, too? "He appeared to you, didn't he?"

"Yes, Pam. He did," he mumbles shortly.

Her eyes dart to me again. "Are you fucking this one, or what? I have to say, she's cute. A bit unruly, though."

"No, Pam. I am not. We are finished here." _Are we? Because that was kind of news to me._ I can't help that I'm a bit relieved, really. And then, still refusing to look at me, he grasps me roughly by my upper arm and pulls me towards the stairs. There's no denying I want to get the heck out of dodge, so I let him haul me out of the room willingly._ I'm still alive, and I'm not chained to the wall._ I think any girl would be relieved by that outcome.


	5. Sexual Healing

**Thank you, thank you, thank you all for being so lovely. :) I'm very glad the story offers you some amusement. I hope it isn't too silly. You guys are the best, and I'm so flattered!**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

I follow the lady out of the dismal, dark room, because Eric Northman is busy yelling to his invisible tormentor again. I can't figure out what his deal is at all.

The lady vampire throws a look behind her shoulder to make certain I'm following her. But really, it's hardly necessary; _Of course I'm following her. I'm following her to get away from the murderous vamp who keeps yelling at the top of his lungs at 'Godric'. _"Hey, don't worry about it," she mutters reassuringly, surprising me. I wasn't expecting that from a vampire at all. "That's just... _Eric_. He does it all the time."

"What? _Talking_ to himself?"

She throws her head back and laughs. Jesus, even the sound of_ her_ laughter makes me uneasy, like Eric's. Something told me they laughed a lot together during however many long years they've spent together, and that creepiness rubbed off on her, too. "It happens for Eric. Godric reveals himself to him, sometimes at the most inappropriate of times." She turns to look at me appraisingly, her fangs glistening at me. "And yes, I guess that also extends to near fucking." I gasp, offended. _She did not just say that._

"Uh, for your information, we weren't doing... nothing like that down there," I tell her, feeling wildly uncomfortable. Honestly, I just want to forget it ever happened. I want the whole awkward altercation we had down there forgotten, and done and dusted completely. It's time to move on. "I would never lose my virginity to somebody whose totally unstable."

She stops dead in her tracks, and gives me a very hungry smile. She's just as unnerving as Eric is, without even having to raise her voice at me. _Two peas in a pod, those two vamps._ "Oh, you're a virgin?" she asks longingly. "How sweet it is."

I try to ignore that comment, as best I can. "So, who is this Godric person exactly? And why does he 'appear' to him?"

She tenses at my question, and looks around the room, on-guard. I think I know just who she's looking for. I look around myself, and I can't find him anywhere, neither. The lady vampire visibly relaxes. He must have her tightly strung. She must know how crabby he is. Well, hell. How could she not possibly know? "Do yourself a favour, and don't mention that name to him. Eric's incredibly touchy on that." I nod, taking her advice extremely seriously. "I know Eric can be a pain in the ass, but he has good reason to be. He's lived a very long, very hard life. Godric made him, he mentored him."

"Godric made him into a vampire, you mean?"

"Yes."

My mind starts churning in full gear, and hard. "Oh. So... Godric's practically his dad?" I ask, surprised.

"You could say that, yes." She nods, appearing pleased that I've got enough smarts within me to understand. "He taught him everything he knows; Fucking, feeding. _Everything_. Exactly in the way that Eric taught me over the years."

_Whoa now._ "Eric's _your_ dad?" I'm really learning enough. I almost wish I brought a notepad and pen with me, so I can jot all this down for important future reference. Not that I'd ever really forget, though. I'm not much of a forgetful person luckily.

"Just don't call him that in front of his face. He gets shitty. It makes him feel incredibly old."

"Oh, all right, I won't," I promise her, very solemnly. "Sure."

"Godric's dead," she says bluntly, with a noticable amount of pity. "It fucked Eric up, and he's never been the same ever since. It's partly why he is such an irritable bastard." I inhale sharply- poor vampire. I think I can sympathize in some ways. I lost my parent's at four years old, in a flash flood. Surely, vampire grief and human grief can't be all that different, right? "Losing your Maker, is like going bald as a human. It fucking stinks, and it alters your life irreparably." It's the strangest analogy I've ever heard, and I can't help but smile uneasily. I guess going bald is one human tragedy this vampire is very pleased she doesn't have to endure. "Eric likes you, and he doesn't like that," she says assuredly, completely out of the blue. It takes me a moment to recover from the quick change of subject.

I almost snort. _He likes me? What a load of crock._ "Sure, he does," I laugh, disbelieving.

"He took you downstairs to the basement to fuck. He hasn't done that in years." She eyes me speculatively, almost as if she's searching for something on me that makes me different from all the rest of human's in the bar. It's creepy. "What do you have that other breathers don't? A sparkling vagina? Three nipples?"

_Jesus Christ Almighty. How can she ask crass, personal stuff like that, with a completely straight face? No ones ever asked me if I have a sparkling vagina before._

"No," I whisper, shuddering, chagrin. "I mean, my body's normal. At least, I_ think_ so!" It doesn't look abnormal to me? Then again, I haven't exactly looked carefully at other naked women's bodies to compare. _Oh, I can hear other human's thoughts... but you're sure as hell not getting that information out of me, lady. Does that constitute as making me different, or worthy of a vampires interest then? _

"Then you're lucky," she says confidently. I don't feel lucky at all.

"Why am I lucky?" I ask her skeptically.

"Because sex with Eric is out-of-this-world," she informs me boldly. "If he could, he would collect orgasms and sell them online."

"Er... like I said, _nothing_ ever happened down there, and frankly, I'm relieved it didn't." My blood is still boiling over his idea of chaining me to the wall. What did he think I was? A puppet to use and abuse for his own sinful pleasure?

"Shame for you, then. He can be a very attentive lover." _And she's speaking from experience._ "He's rich, and handsome. He would treat his human well. He certainly treats me well." She flashes another fang-fuelled grin my way. "You know, for my hundred and fifty-ninth birthday last year, he brought me a car. One of those expensive Mercedes-Benz. It's parked out back in the employees lot, hot pink in color."

"Oh, wow," I whisper, trying to sound happy for her. Honestly, I don't know much about cars at all. I'm still out and about in the cheap, rusty car Gran gave for graduating high school. I like keeping modest. I'm not one for fancy things at all. _Anyway, good for her..._

"Half the designer clothes I'm wearing and the ones in my closet, he unknowingly brought them," she goes on proudly. I can't help but wonder why she's revealing all this to me. Is it to make her father appear more agreeable to me, or something? "I say unknowingly, because I stole his credit card a few times." She raises a manicured finger to me in mock warning. "Don't tell him that, neither. He's incredibly tight with money."

"My lips are sealed," I beam at her, pretended to zip my lips up. I think I like this lady. She's quite nice, and brutally honest. And she doesn't yell. What's not to like?

"But seriously, if you want to be somebody's in this world, it should be Eric's."

"Thank you," I whisper, trying not to sound too sour. "I'll take that advice on-board." _Not._ _Why on earth would I want to be his?_

* * *

I wake up at eleven o'clock next morning, which is hardly surprising for a girl who spent very nearly over eight hours in the evening at a vampire bar last night.

I think the evening through, feeling all these mixed feelings bubble up to the surface. Tara and I had made a pact last night on the drive home; No more vampire bar's for us. Tara was reluctant to agree, at first, because she really enjoyed it there. I never told her what did happen, with Eric Northman. I just couldn't bear it; She would have either laughed at me in horror, or tried to give me some advice which she felt was right on the issue. Getting advice from Tara just isn't something I'm looking for right now. I just want to deal with it, and suffer my embarrassment in silence. I don't much like letting people into my troubles, and I enjoy it that way.

I don't even know what to think about Eric Northman, no less; Despite him being unpleasant, I think I very much liked him. But then, at the same, I almost felt a bit scared if I even ran into him again. That's why I've decided to make Fangtasia off-limits from now on. It's too confusing, and I got myself into a mess. Partly, my embarrassment was why I was so keen on staying away. I did some very idiotic things at Fangtasia; Groping a hot-headed vampire, forcing him to dance with me... getting silly on a stripper's pole, probably fainting on said grumpy vampire, getting kissed by aforementioned vampire, then unknowingly walking downstairs with him and getting an unexpected demand to 'fuck it out', which I was finding extremely hard to get out of, because he apparently doesn't do offers.

It was quite sad; Godric, the vampire who made him, 'appears' to him. Maybe that's why he has so much anger inside of him? But that anger could quite possibly get me in a morgue.

My brain was just telling me to steer clear of that vampire bar, before I get myself murdered. So, stay away, I will, from now on. It's better this way. I don't particularly feel like dying any time soon.

I hear Gran at work downstairs, vacuuming. Gran has always been an early bird; It's quite admirable of her, while I would be perfectly content to just lay in bed all day, like a lazy worm, knee-deep in thoughts. But then I can't do that, because I have work later. And I really want to see Gran, and spend a bit of time with her, before I have to get going. So, coaxing myself out of my laziness, I get to my feet and stomp downstairs to make a very needed coffee to wake me up. Gran greets me excitedly like I'm her most favourite person in the world, and I sit in the living room with her with the television on low so that we can chatter aimlessly. The news programme comes on- a repeat of the morning's showing for us lazy worms- and, much to my poor luck, they are featuring an interview with Mr. Eric Northman himself. I groan inwardly, and almost spit out my mouthful of coffee. _So much for live and let die._

Gran floats behind me, dusting the fireplace, humming to herself absent-mindedly, while I turn up the volume and sit, riveted. I just want to see what he is like in front of other people, or whether he's more pleasant to them, because they don't grind on his nerves the way I obviously do.

The lady keeps yawning, and apologizing to him compulsively, throughout her introduction to the broadcasted interview. I bet he won't like that. I bet he'll consider something so harmless as yawning in front of him extremely rude. On the third occurence, he finally comments on it, in a surprisingly normal and humourous way.

"Late night?" he asks her ironically.

She giggles and checks her wrist-watch. "Well, it _is_ four o'clock in the morning, and this doesn't go on the air until eight-thirty," is her light-hearted excuse.

Tara was right, I realize; _Where have I been?_ If he's been on live interviews for television shows, surely I would have noticed him and made note of who he was, right? He sure didn't seem one vampire you could forget easily and, clearly, he was high-profile. I must truly have lived under a rock all these years.

Her questions are rather mundane, at the start. She asks him the basic questions; _What's it like being a vampire... Is Fangtasia open to human's... All that jazz._

He takes an excessive mouthful of True Blood halfway through the interview, seeming as if all the questions have worked him up a big thirst; swishing it around his mouth. And then he leans forward, and unexpectedly, he spits it out on the ground at his polished shoes, spraying out a stream of bright red liquid. Even the interviewer doesn't know whether to be frightened or amused by his outrageous display. "What flavour did you say this was again?" he asks the woman urgently, his lips moist. His teeth are stained red.

The picture pans into the woman's expression, and she appears just as disconcerted as I feel, while watching it. Would it kill him to be pleasant?

"Uh, I didn't, Mr. Northman." She laughs weakly, and looks off the camera at one of her assistances. "Was that A-Positive, Sandra?"

Sandra- the woman off-screen- murmurs a feeble confirmation. He's definitely gotten the woman scared.

"_A-Positive_?" he grunts, and his mouth curls in disgust. "No, no. A-Positive will _not_ do. I _specifically_ asked for you to come prepared." He lets loose a string of expletives- expletives which are artfully blanked out by the producers to keep the programme on a PG level. He leans back in the chair, his eyebrows pinched together in frustration. "O-Positive. Can't you people get anything right? _Jesus_!"

_Whoa._ I almost choke on my coffee. _Mr. High-Handed, High-Maintainence Vampire Man._

The interviewer laughs nervously again, flustered, and kneads the back of her neck with her manicured fingers. And, like the apparent sin it is to keep this vamp waiting, a slender arm pops into the screen, handing him his bottle of O-type quickly. He cranks it open, takes an investigative sip to check and see it's to his standard of perfection- with no rude spitting this time- and licks his lips in satisfaction.

"Much better," he says quietly, nodding his gratitude to Sandra off the screen.

And so, the interview resumes with ongoing awkwardness. Or maybe that's just me?

He turns into a fidgety man with restless leg syndrome; Clearly he's got way more exciting places he'd like to be, than sitting with a human answering her questions. He crosses his leg over his right knee, then shifts in the chair, crosses his leg over the other over roughly five times during her questions. He flicks his thumbnail against the glass bottle of O-type loudly, interfering with her concentration.

And then, something that makes the lady interviewing him horribly unnerved, he decides to bring out his fangs, without warning. She jolts in her chair, flushes, wriggling about, and stumbles through her questions gracelessly. When he picks at his fangs inconsiderately with his fingers, a bit like when you do if you have food stuck in them, she has to repeat herself all over again numerous times. He watches her like she's mentally incompetent. What a total bastard.

Embarrassingly, I feel like I could watch him all day, taking him in. His ill-manners are just wickedly comical to me, outrageous, unbelievable... He's far too good-looking than he deserves to be, in his black tuxedo suit with a white vest underneath, complete with a tie and polished shoes. I bet he can do next to anything and everything, and still get away with it. He can be a hot-tempered, demanding, bossy vampire, and no one would even think twice of telling him off, and putting him in his rightful place, like he deserves. He can also yell at walls to his imaginary friend, 'Godric', without anybody questioning his sanity. It's probably because they're too scared of him, and how he would react. Then again, sometimes a man can't have the complete package, can they?

"Uh, how does it feel to know you have such a solid humanoid fan-base, and that millions of women over the globe would love to date you?"

Millions over the globe? Ha! Obviously they haven't met him in person like I have. I bet then, their opinion of him would instantly change within a heartbeat. _Well, maybe I am being a bit too harsh here? _He's hardly as bad in person as he is being now, on television. I guess. No, maybe he's more bearable here, because he knows he has to keep himself in line? After all, slaughtering someone on television- it's hardly a good look, for any vamp.

"Really? Millions of women?" He sounds just as skeptical as I feel on that. "Where are these women you speak of?" She fans her face with her hand, like he's so charming. He's clearly working his way into her panties.

"Would you, uhm, ever consider dating a human?" Her voice is shy and breathless._ Oh, my Lord! She's totally flirting with him on camera for the entire world to witness, too!_

"Would _I_ ever date a human?" It takes him a long moment to answer. He strokes his right fang, in serious deliberation. "Tell me. Would you?" He leans forward in the chair, levelling his disarming blue eyes onto her, resting his elbows against the arm rests. The woman leans in, too, squirming, hanging onto his every word. "Date a vampire, I mean?" And she's back to fanning herself again. Whoopee.

"Are you... uh... um, asking me out?" She sounds surprised. Hopeful, even.

He steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, and shakes in silent, cruel laughter. "Am I asking you out? _You_?" He says it with so much contempt, that my heart breaks for the poor interviewer. "No, I do not date, especially not humans. I wouldn't ever consider it. I'm fluttery enough as it is." _Fluttery._ How odd... I've heard that word a lot from him ever since he stepped into my life.

"Oh." The woman sounds awfully disappointed, but she recovers gracefully. "Do you have a woman that captures your interest already?"

"What are you, an infant?" The woman's mouth pops open in offense, but then he turns it around effectively, by sending a sly wink her way. "It's a joke. Can't you human's tell the difference?"

She lets out of a whoosh of air in relief, and pretends to wipe her brow.

"But yes," he goes on, very seriously, after a moment. "I do. I am officially off-the-market; I have met someone, just recently. But I've been so for very nearly over two hundred years now." _Jeeze-Louise._ My breath hitches in my throat at his admission. Two hundred years? Is that how... old he is? Or is he way, _way_ older? Tara said he was old as dirt. Shit, he's been single a long time. No wonder he acts slightly crazy around me, with being so desperate to 'fuck it out'. Maybe he has been sexually deprived for _that_ long, and when I touched him provocatively, it pushed him off the edge?

The woman doesn't know how to respond to that. So she simply nods, and brushes her hair behind her ear lobe nervously, glancing down at her notebook of questions. "Well, I believe that's all, Mr. Northman. Thank you for having the time to sit down and chat with us."

"No, the pleasure was all mine," he says, surprisingly polite. "Besides, I had nowhere else I had to be."

As they both rise from their chairs, she holds out her hand good-naturedly. He stares down at her fingers, and shakes his head disapprovingly.

"I don't do the whole hand shaking thing. So put it away before I tear it off myself," he tells her sternly, authoritatively. _What a major diva._ The interviewer quickly puts her hand down against her kneecap fearfully, and then the screen returns to the regular Louisiana newsfolk.

"Oh, how disgraceful," Gran murmurs from behind me in disgust, adding her own commentary, which oddly enough matches my thoughts. I turn to look at her, surprised. I never knew she was even paying any attention to the T.V, like I was. "I do not like that vampire's manner at all. It's one thing, knowing your a powerful influence on the community. But it's another thing entirely, to go use it to your advantage and flaunt it about maliciously."

"Oh, Gran, you're preaching to the choir," I laugh in outrage, pleased as pie to have someone who expresses the same sentiments I'm feeling exactly. "How high-handed could you be? So high and mighty. That poor interviewer..."

"Sookie, you and Tara don't go hanging around that vampire bar, do you?" she asks, completely out of the blue, with quivering suspicion in her frail, sweet voice. _Whoopsie daisy._ I turn swiftly on the couch, hiding my face from her. I've always hated lying to Gran. She was far too sweet for her own good.

"Of course not, Gran," I say, pretending to be insulted. "What do you take Tara and I for? A bunch of no-good misfits? Of course, we don't!"

"Well, I certainly hope not," she says, her voice full of stern warning. "You'd do good to steer clear of vampires. Especially like that one on television in the interview. He sounds horrible. I bet he'd eat a good, Christian girl like you up in one bite!"

I feel my entire face drain of color. _Dammit, its way too late for that now._ Now I've got this vampire on my back, wanting to 'fuck it out' with me, for whatever reason that is. Why couldn't she have told me that just a few days ago? It sure would have helped. Then again, I couldn't really tell Gran what's going on. There were just certain things I had to keep her safe from, certain things she didn't need to know. And this was definitely one of them.

"So, where's Jason?" I ask, trying for a well-needed subject change. Conversations about Jason was neutral territory, and Gran doted on my older brother more than she doted on anything, or anyone. She loved Jason more than she even loved her beloved ginger cat, Tina, who was probably getting up to all types of unnamable mischief around the house, like cat's usually did.

"Jason is a big boy now," she says, a bit sadly, but with a whole lot of tenderness spilling out into her words. "He can handle himself."

As much as I love my Grandmother to death, she was a bit gullible whenever it came to Jason, bless her. It didn't help that Jason shifted into a different person whenever she entered the room. Unbeknownst to Gran, Jason had a super bad potty-mouth. Nearly as bad as vampire Eric Northman, but it all dissipated into politeness whenever my Gran burst into a room. Really, I guess I wasn't one to judge now, though; After all, past few nights I've headed out secretly to Fangtasia with Tara, and getting into all sorts of deadly pickles with a certain potty-mouthed vampire. Who was I to judge how Jason was?

"Jason's got himself a new girlfriend, too," Gran informs me excitedly. I can't say I express the same sentiments on that one. "She's lovely, and so, so friendly."

"Oh, really? Which girl is it this week?"

"Oh, Sookie," Gran laughs in scolding. "You stop that!" But it was true; Jason was a compulsive dater. He changes girlfriends as often as he changes his hairstyle, and that was weekly. "Her name is Amy, and she's a darling. Pity you couldn't have met her. She visited last night." Honestly, I was kind of glad I missed meeting her, then. Meeting all of Jason's girlfriends, and then instantly trying to forget them once the next one quickly entered into the scene, was difficult. I couldn't even count on one hand the number of times I'd accidentally called one of his girlfriend's by an ex's name, which set Jason up for a whole lot of embarrassment. "Speaking of dating, when are you going to find yourself a nice boyfriend to bring home to your Grandmother's for dinner?"

"Gran!" I laugh, embarrassed. I ought to have known it was coming. Gran was always very interested in my life. She wished I had more romance in it for such a young, wholesome and pretty girl. Pretty- in her eyes, at least. "You know I can't be dating, especially not when I hear everything," I remind her. "And besides, if you heard half the things boys my age were thinking, you'd be brandishing them away with a broomstick!"

"Oh, I wouldn't," she insists vehemently. "I would respect your decision, dear. What goes on between you and boys, is your private own business." She turns and smiles down at me innocently, before grabbing her broom and going about the living room with maniacal thoroughness. "So long as he respects you, of course. As long as there is respect, I would not dare to interfere."

And then I can hear her mind clicking away blissfully with different scenarios of me dating a boy, with long hair and a moustache. Very Mexican-looking. Is that the type of person Gran would have liked for me? I couldn't deny I was amused by the mental imagery she put in place. It was like watching a cheesy fifties movie, where the man is an old-fashioned gentleman who greets me pleasantly and asks me politely for a goodnight kiss. Clearly, her ideas were a bit out-dated by the calibre of testosterone-fulled boys you got nowadays.

"What would you do if I ever came home with a vampire?" I ask, before I can even manage to get firm hold onto myself.

Gran gasps in horror, and her sweet old-fashioned movie about me dating a nice young man instantly switches.

This time, it's Eric Northman who's playing main feature in her mind. I don't know how she came up with that, but then again maybe he's stuck in her brain after the quick snippet we saw on the morning news? And then, she's imagining me kissing him, but then his fangs get in the way, and I'm suddenly riddled with overwhelming guilt, because it did happen in real life last night. I mightn't know how it happened, or why, but it just did. I cannot believe I shared a kiss with the very same insolent vampire that was on television. And it wasn't a bad experience in the slightest. At least, not hardly as bad as Gran's assuming it would be. It was not difficult getting kissed by a man who came with a pair of fangs. They never got in the way. Well, at least I never felt them, or saw them as a hindrance. And clearly, he didn't neither; Maybe that's because he had plenty of experience kissing with fangs, though?

It hits too close for home, leaving me feeling like a bundle of wired, hot nerves.

"Gran, I'm joking," I tell her, forcing a bright and cheerful smile, hoping to ease her mind. "I would never do something like that!"

And it seems to work; The image filters away, and dies. I'm just as bad as Jason, when it comes to pulling wool over my dear Grandmother's eyes, and it left me feeling so terrible with myself.

* * *

I was happy to get back to work in the afternoon. More happier than I've ever felt for some time, for some reason.

I think lying to Gran made me feel pretty guilty, and I was relieved to be away from her for a few hours. The flow of customers tonight is steady, so there isn't a big rush to get out orders. Everything is pretty much breezy, and happy. Sam, my boss, is in a delightfully pleased mood. Until the phone rings, of course. He beckons me to answer it by jerking his head swiftly at the harping thing.

"Hello, this is Sookie Stackhouse at Merlotte's Bar and Grill. How may I help you this evening?" I ask cheerfully, the customary greeting for phone calls.

Silence. No breathing on the other line, no less. And then music crackles to life on the other line, breezing away in my ear. I feel my cheerful mood deflate by the second, because I think I have a hunch on who this person is. I start to feel queasy, because the lyrics are very provocative. Very soulful, catchy music plays. A black man's crooning voice over the groovy beat:

_Ooh baby, I'm hot just like an oven, I need some lovin'... And baby, I can't hold it much longer, it's__ getting stronger and stronger... And when I get that feeling, __I want sexual healing... Sexual healing, oh baby, __Makes me feel so fine... Helps to relieve my mind... Sexual healing, baby, is good for me... _

Sam looks at me questioningly, while scrubbing down the counter near me with a dish rag. Does my face look funny? I'm positive it does.

"Who's on the phone, cher?" he mouths at me. I shrug, and bite my lip, speechless. I hand the phone to Sam, trying to hold back laughter. He listens for a moment, before he shivers visibly. He turns to slam the phone back down onto the cradle, unamused. He is red with anger. "Damn prank phone callers. Next time, do me a favour, and hang up right away on these punks, all right?"

I nod obediently, trying to hide a grin. Why does it feel like I'm keeping a dangerous secret from him? It probably wasn't even Eric Northman, anyhow. "Oh, yes, Sam."

Half a minute later, the phone rings again. His face flushes even brighter in irritation, and he pushes me into the counter to get to it before I do. "I got this," he warns me sternly. "Yes, Merlotte's Bar and Grill?" I eye him curiously as he listens to somebody on the other line. He gives me a very cheesed-off look, and turns swiftly to hang up the phone. "Sookie, no, tell me it ain't so!" He exclaims, sounding very angry and disappointed in me.

"What?" I ask innocently. I have my mental guard strategically in place, so I can't tell what's coming; Overhearing my boss thinking about my body, it wasn't something I particularly enjoyed.

"Tell me you haven't been hanging 'round that vampire bar!" He grabs me by the shoulders firmly, giving me a little fatherly shake. "Sexual healing with Eric Northman? Tell me you're smarter than that!" Oops. I ought to feel thoroughly chided and disgraced in myself, but I can't help the goofy grin that plasters onto my face. He is very hopped up with anger; it's a little intimidating. I haven't seen Sam get all that angry before. "You got a death wish, or something? Tell me it ain't so, not a good girl like you!"

"You know what? I am sick and tired of people treating me like I'm such an innocent girl!" I snap, pushing his hands away. He stares at me, stunned by my outburst. Usually, I don't let myself get into hissy fits all that often. But tonight, my patience was being tested, and poor Sam was getting the brunt of it. "I can take care of myself!"

"I'm just worried about you," he says gently, holding up his hands in resignation. And yes, I could see that clearly, and appreciate his concern for me. But why were people constantly undermining me? "You're meddling with somebody who shouldn't be meddled with. Goddamn it, haven't you heard what they've been sayin' 'bout him? Ain't that enough for you to stay away?"

I feel like crying, and I hate it. "Yes, I've heard the rumours, all right? About the nipple and the... the heart. _All_ of it, Sam."

"The nipple?" he breathes, thunderstruck. "What's this about a nipple, cher?"

I hardly feel in the mood to get into explaining that one. I'll leave that one for Lafayette to deal with. "Just ask Lafayette, if it concerns you so much! But I also know that rumours can be fictional, made-up stories! I don't believe it's right to judge somebody! What gives a person right to judge another just because of some made-up horse pucky?" I was told directly from the horses mouth that the nipple incident wasn't true. So, surely not everything else could be, right?

He laughs at my words, a small, incredulous, breathless one. "Sook, I got half the customers complaining a few nights ago, all because of that vampire showin' up here and threatening you, making a racket! Half the customers were scared! Apparently, he was shouting at you and making threats! Was he?"

My face drains of color. Well, I'll be damned. I never knew customer's complained over what happened a few nights ago in here. Then again, it hardly surprised me that people did.

"That's just the way he is, Sam! He's an advocate of swearing! He didn't mean anything by it!"

"Oh." He laughs again. "So, that gives him right to come into my bar, and shout all the derogative names 'neath the sun, does it? Hell, I ought to go to his bar and do the same thing, abuse some of the barmaids, see how he likes it..." He grasps the dish rag and wipes his hands furiously.

I gasp, suddenly frightened at the thought of Sam ever doing that. It would be possibly the most stupidest thing he could do. "You _can't_!"

"Why not?"

"Because you... you might get killed..." Instantly I see the error of my ways. He jabs a finger at me, and laughs loudly, getting his point across very well.

"That's exactly it, cher. You know he's dangerous, so stay the fuck away!" Sam hardly swears much, neither. Guess he's real verbal on the subject of my associating with this vampire. "And don't go accepting his calls no more, neither! He's clearly only after_ one_ thing, and that's some good, old sexual healing!"

I feel my face grow increasingly hot in embarrassment. "Sam, I-"

He puts an arm around me, rubbing my back soothingly. "Can't you see that I just don't want to lose you?" he whispers, in a very calming, gentle voice. "You're too good to lose, Sookie. Don't become victim to a vampire like him, all right?"

"Victim to _who_?" Somebody says behind us amusedly, making me jump. _Oh, no_.

Sam's arm instantly drops around my shoulder, and he lunges for the wooden baseball bat we keep underneath the counter fast. We use it mainly in case of robberies, or arguments that break out in the bar. Now, Sam's intending to use it to ward a vampire away from me.

"Get out of here, vampire," Sam warns him, trying to sound as menacing as he can muster. "From now on, you're banned from so much as stepping foot into here. Don't go makin' calls, neither! Stay away from Sookie! Leave now, or else I'm beatin' the shit out of you right here, right now, with my baseball bat!"

"Make me," I hear Eric Northman say thoughtlessly, going out of his way to antagonize him. Doesn't he know not to provoke an already tempered man?

And so, gritting his teeth and looking a bit undignified while he's at it, Sam takes a few forceful swings at him from behind the counter. There's no duck and weave motions from Eric Northman at all. He just stands there motionlessly, taking it with an admirable grain of salt. But when Sam manages to successfully clobber him against the side of his head, and the painful _plunk_ that sounds off as the bat hits the side of Eric's skull, I have to draw the line there.

"Sam!" I growl, hauling myself at him, trying to get him into being responsible. Does he himself have a death wish? How dare he lecture me, damn hypocrite! I manage to grip onto the bat, but its a struggle to wrench it out of his hands. After a moment of frantic tugging, he releases the bat without warning, sending me backwards into the counter. He's glaring at the vampire with such hatred, it's a little alarming. _Boy, oh boy. What did this vampire do to get underneath Sam's skin the way he has?_

"Get out of my bar!" He yells at him like a crazy man, trembling all over. "Get the fuck out, fanger, and don't you ever return!"

Eric's clearly gotten so excited by the prospect of a fight, that his fangs are out on display. He makes a slit-throat motion with his finger at Sam, who hisses underneath his breath, swearing like a sailor. I try to push Sam furthest away from him as much as my strength can manage, attempting to defuse his animosity. I shoot a very sharp look at the vampire, too, trying to defuse his somehow. Bad idea looking at him, that was. He looks between me and a heavily panting Sam, eyeing us like a hawk. He's definitely sizing Sam up, Sam who is... positively dripping with sweat and anger. His face is glistening and damp with sweat, or tears? Hell, if I know.

"She's _my_ fucking human," Eric Northman spits out sullenly, sounding pretty pissed off, as usual. There's that weird word again. _My human is getting cocky... my human._

I feel like I'm going to blow a gasket. I close my eyes, breathing deeply, counting to ten to control myself. When I reopen my eyes, Eric Northman is still standing there, his eyes on me. _Is he going to leave, or what?_ _What the hell is he waiting for? Was Sam's blow to the side of his head not sufficient? Crazy vampire!_

He ignores my boss, and leans against the counter on his elbows, eyeing me curiously. "Did you see my interview?"_ The one where he acted like an insolent, high-handed vampire? Oh, yes, I sure did, and so did my Grandmother! _"I hope you did, because... I... uh..." He trails off nervously, rubbing his hands together. I don't think I've ever seen him look so nervous. Besides, why does he care whether I saw the interview? Mr. Confusing.

I'm still majorly pissed off over his _'My Human'_ remark, so I implore him to leave by staring at him silently with wide eyes.

He gets the hint I'm sending loud and clear, thank heavens, and pushes off the counter. He nods to himself. "Maybe another time," he says quietly, in a weird tone that tells me _another time_ will be quite soon. I'm praying not. He darts Sam a mean look again, his body radiating all types of anger, and then, just like that he leaves. _Well, that was easy enough. _

Only far too easy. And I think I know enough now, to know that this vamp is anything but easy.

And, turns out, my intuition is right.

When I gather my purse out of the staff room once I've finished my shift for the evening, I head out into the dimly lit parking lot to where my car is parked. It's quiet, and dark, with everybody else having left for the night, except for Sam, whose truck is parked a few spaces near mine, and another car, a deep red fancy one, who I haven't two wits on who it belongs to. It's seriously a rich car. Usually, people in Bon Temps didn't have cars so fancy. But then I get the answer I'm seeking for immediately, when a tall, looming figure pushes off the back of my car, and turns to glance at me.

Cheese and crackers. So much for a pretty good night. It was going great, until he came in, and my boss experienced an adverse reaction to him that caused him to go totally bat-shit violent with his trusty baseball bat.

"Oh, you have got to be shitting me," I hiss to myself, stomping towards my car as quickly as my tired legs will allow me. I throw my purse against the hood of my car, delving around inside for my car keys blindly through the dark. I'm very good at ignoring people I don't much want to deal with. I can't even grope out my keys in my bag. Where did they possibly get off to? But then, it instantly hits me.

I stiffen against the dented hood of my car, when I hear his footsteps scuffling sedately against the concrete in the dark. He's coming near me. I really wish I brought some pepper spray. Does pepper spray even affect vampires, and ward them away? I guess there's always time for some good, old experimentation.

He shakes something vigorously from behind me- something sounding very much like my car keys clinging together. "Looking for these slippery motherfuckers?" I close my eyes tightly, sagging against the car, reminding myself to breath. _Good question would be, how did he manage to get his hands on my car keys? _"Isn't it strange how things can just mysteriously vanish, just like that?" He clicks his fingers_. _"The great wonder of the world in which we live in."

_Fine, then. If he wants to play it this way, I can play back just as hard._

Reopening my eyes slowly, I turn into the direction of his smooth voice.

"Car keys. Humans. It's a pretty fucking strange world, isn't it?" he says through the dark, purposefully vague.

"And I'm willing to bet you're responsible for most disappearances, being the_ crazy-ass_ vampire that you are," I murmur, feeling haughty.

I can't see him all that well through the shadows, until he deliberately invades my personal space, getting up real close. His knees brush up against my thighs, and suddenly, I feel like a sailor lost at sea, with no place to turn to. I'm just hopelessly floating, and forced into accepting the worst possible outcome. Great. I'm stuck in a hard place, cornered into my car by an unstable vampire. I can see the whiteness of his face and the light hair through the darkness, but everything else just blends in- probably conveniently for him. It means he can kill me within a heartbeat, and I wouldn't even know what's hit me.

"Good evening to you, too," he says, aloof, and then he slams a hand down onto the hood of my car. I'm fairly sure it's enough pressure that there will be a new dent on it. "And, might I add, your car is pathetically shit."

"Well, it certainly will be now with a dented hand print in it thanks to you, buddy."

"We need to get you a new car."

_We? We! Oh my God._ "Do _we_?" I retort sarcastically.

"Yes,_ we_ do."

"There is no _we_, Mister! Now give me back my keys! I know you've got them somewhere!"

"Find them yourself," he challenges quietly. _Find them myself? What?_

"It's too dark!" I protest, grumpy. "I can't frigging see!"

"Well, tough shit."

"_Where_ are you hands at?"

"Use yours, and find out for yourself." He sounds so breathless, like he's enjoying this infuriating game immensely. So weird. Some sordid humour he has. "Don't be fucking shy."

So, putting my dignity aside, I have no choice but to grope him out in the dark. I don't know which places I'm feeling out, or where exactly my hands are going, but I'm hoping they aren't feeling body parts too improper. I touch weird silky cloth, and then I know I'm in the right direction. At least, I hope so. I glide my hand higher, feeling out round buttons, so I know I'm touching his shirt. But damn, this is really killing my patience.

"Where is your goddamn hands?" And then I get my answer. Well, I know where _one_ hand is, at least. _Oh! Oh!_

His cold fingers slide down the column of my throat, chilling me with his touch. _Why does his touch have to feel so good to me right now? Especially when he is the biggest asshole vampire in the universe? _I have to suppress a whimper, mashing my lips tightly closed. "You like that, don't you?" he whispers knowingly, his voice far too throaty and appealing to me. _What the hell is he doing to me? Jesus! _"You enjoy me touching you." He makes a low deep sound from inside the very back of his throat, and yes, it dawns on me miserably, I do like that. I like it a lot. I'll never tell it to him, though. _Hell, no._

"No, I don't," I say quickly in defense for myself. It's a lie, sure. But who cares? "You are obnoxious Mister!" I grab his hand that's relentlessly touching me, and work all my hard-earned effort into pulling one of his fingers back. There. I can defend myself. Only, it doesn't even snap, despite me wrenching it back with mighty effort to pain him. What? Can't vampires bones break? This sucks!

He laughs cruelly at me, and I don't know whether it's because he knows I'm trying to break his finger- or _what_?

"I lied. I don't actually have your fucking keys." He laughs again, breathing all over me. "But if this is what it takes for you to touch me, then so be it. This was fun. All the more reason to fuck this out."

My head is thrown into a spin. I release his finger, and literally throw my back onto the hood.

"What?" I gasp, horrified. _No, that can't be true! No!_

"They've been in your purse this whole time," he says, enjoying himself mightily. "These keys belong to me. These belong to Red, my Corvette." _He's named his car Red? All righty then. Who does that? _I snatch up my purse, digging inside again, fumbling around, panicky. And then I feel out my keys, and I want to die. God, come smite me please! "I can't help that you're fucking blind as a bat." He laughs again darkly, once he sees that I'm gripping them in my hand tightly. "Just admit it: No more pretences. You want to fuck me."

"_Stop_ talking so nasty," I squeal. "Learn some manners, and quit swearing, Mister! It's not doing you any favours!" I sling my purse over my shoulder, and fumble to get the car open. Since I'm so pissed off, I can't help myself. I want to get him back for this. He's made me mad. Really, really mad. Dangerously mad. I could murder him for corrupting me. "Oh, and by the way," I start bitterly, through my teeth. I want him shocked as all hell. "The reason I love coming into your bar so much, is because I'm telepathic, and I can't hear vampire's thoughts. That's what the silence is all about."

I hear him gasp and grunt somewhere near me. "What?" There, that's done the trick. Mr. Astonished.

"And another thing, while you're here, I would never, _ever_ go for somebody like you. You are mean, and sneaky, and you treat other people like dirt! I saw you on that interview this morning, and I got to say, you are_ unbelievably_ rude!" Now that I've gotten started, I can't seem able to stop. I feel my eyes well up with angry tears. "_You_ just treat people like crap because _you_ feel like crap, due to all the mental issues you're dealing with here!" I laugh to myself hysterically. "You want people to think you're such a scary asshole, just so that they won't try getting near you and seeing what's truly inside. And, I'm sure... deep, _deep_ down, way, _way down_ inside... you are a normal, decent-hearted man like the rest of them! You are just so silly that you believe the own hype they are spreading about you, about the nipple... and the heart, and you just let them go on thinking that about you, because you _like_ having that power of being afraid of!" Tears stream down my cheeks, and I'm shaking. _Lord, why did I let myself get into such a mess?_ "Oh, and if your father's death has anything to do with this, let me just tell you; my parent's died when I was a little girl, and yet you don't see me treating others like they're scum between my toes!"

_Oh, shit._ I slap a hand over my mouth, feeling awfully disgusted with myself. I wasn't meant to mention that to his face- some advice I should have obligingly taken from the female vampire, Pam. I've definitely put my foot into it, this time.

"Shit, I really shouldn't have just said all that," I whisper, shakily. "I'm _so_ sorry!"

"You're right. You _shouldn't_ have."

"I didn't mean anything by it, really," I mumble apologetically. "I just get _so_ fired up sometimes. I was only trying to make a point!"

"Oh, and you've made your fucking point quite clear." He makes an anguished noise from in the dark, and then I feel like sobbing my heart out. _I feel like such a... bitch. Hell, I am a bitch_. Mentioning his dead father was hardly something a decent person would do. It was a low blow, and I knew it. I think this was definitely enough to get me killed.


	6. Foreign Feelings

**Thank you, thank you, thank you all for being so lovely. :) I'm very glad the story offers you some amusement. I hope it isn't too silly. You guys are the best, and I'm so flattered! Thank you! :)**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"I think it's time for me to slip on my big girl panties," I whisper, mostly to myself. He couldn't tell, though.

"Your what?" he asks confusedly through the shadows. It seems he hasn't heard the term before. _Well, if I can keep him confused, I might just have some hope in delaying my death. _I have no idea what he has in-store for me at all. Is he going to kill me after all I've said- or not?

"My big girl panties," I repeat, a little hoarsely. "And by saying that, I mean by sending a whopping apology your way." He doesn't say anything in response, so I take it as my green-light to go ahead in what I'm saying. "I haven't met a vampire before, so I can't say I know how to react around you." That was putting it mildly, sure; He was a very hard vampire to understand, and not only because I couldn't seem able to hear his thoughts.

I've never been in a situation like this before. Usually, hearing thoughts, it enabled me to know what people expected of me, it gave me insight into what they wanted from me. But with this vampire, I was completely clueless. Powerless, in a sense. And it scared me shitless.

"We've gotten off on the wrong footing, I feel, right from the start. Half of it was my fault, and I'm real sorry about that." I hope I sound as sincere as my heart feels. "I've done and said some awfully stupid things. But truth be told... I don't know how to react around you, or how to feel about you, no less. My head tells me one thing, while those around me are telling me another. Others are telling me nasty rumours about you, about how dangerous you are- and no doubt you've heard half of the rumours yourself. And when I said I can't hear vampire's thoughts... it was the truth. And I think that's something that scares me most, more than any of those rumours combined. I'm not used to the silence, and not knowing for sure in advance what's in-store for me while being around you. I think that automatically puts me on the defensive here. Everybody I know is warning me against you. It seems you have quite the reputation for being brutal, and dangerous."

"I am." _And proud of it,_ that tone says.

"Well, that's mainly why I have trouble knowing how to react around you," I go on hesitantly. "If you're as dangerous as people are gossiping that you are, I feel like I have to be one step ahead of you, and light on my toes. I can't tell what's going to happen. One minute, I think everything is going to be fine, that you're not going to hurt me, and that all that's been said about you is nonsense just to scare people. Then, next instance, I've gone and said something, or done something to anger you, and fear you're about to kill me. I don't want to die yet," I admit unevenly. "At least, not tonight. And I'd _at least_ like to die with some dignity. So, I would appreciate it if you could tell me, right now... are you intending to kill me anytime soon?" God, how calmly I can talk of my own death. "Is that why you're constantly hanging around me?"

"I only kill those who wrong me." He sounds as if he's trying not to laugh. "While you have irritated me beyond belief, that offense is hardly something I consider punishable by death."

"Oh." It feels as if a fifty-pound orangutan has been lifted off my shoulders. "I appreciate you telling me that. Another thing, I want to thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For putting up with me, I guess. Heaven knows how you could have stopped yourself from just ending me, after all the silly things I've done, at your bar, and all the things I've thoughtlessly said. And, if we ever met again, I promise I'll try my very hardest to be mindful of what I say to you." I'm probably rambling, but I feel it's kind of necessary. I need to make it clear on him, somehow. "I know I've said some real hurtful things, some comments out-of-line, namely about your father, and I'll be real mindful of that next time. I put it down to my ignorance of vampire's." There, I'm capable of being a responsible girl, taking full responsibility of her idiotic actions. I feel almost proud of myself, in a sense. "And if it's any consolation to you whatsoever, I won't be returning to your bar. I'll spare you the embarrassment."

"Thank you." That throaty voice sounds very relieved.

"Look, I don't know how vampire's deal with these kinds of things, but I think we should shake on it." I hold out my right hand blindly in the dark, feeling brave. "Let's make it a pact. I'll be mindful of what I say, and you'll have to promise not to kill me. Let's shake on it."

And then, a bit too belatedly, I recall the television interview and how he reacted when the lady held out her hand in farewell greeting. _"I don't do the whole handshaking thing. So put it away before I tear it off myself..."_ Just like an explosion, I lose it. I rock on my side with laughter.

I hear him inhale in a sharp breath. "What?" He doesn't sound very pleased.

"Shake on it!" I say, trying to hold in my giggling. "I'm _trying_ to shake hands with Mr. I Don't Do The Handshaking Thing!" It feels great, laughing. I haven't laughed so hard in a while. I twiddle my fingers, very deliberately. "Better put this away now, shouldn't I? Or else I'm at danger of losing my hand, right?" I giggle again. Quicker than I have the time to be truly fearful that I'm going to lose my hand, he takes my hand quicker than you can say '_Mayday_', and shakes it. He nurses a strong, confident hand shake. Just even by simply shaking one of his hands, I can feel the immeasurable strength of said hands.

"You are one strange fucking human," he says in a throaty voice, sounding disgusted. "I will repeat again; what are you?"

I'm getting annoyed with him asking me that, particularly because I don't know what he means at all. "Well, I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I say tartly, "And you know damn good and well what I am, Mister. I work at Merlotte's, I'm a waitress. So, really it isn't all that necessary to constantly ask me that."

He sighs loudly. Somehow, I can feel his eyes watching me in the dark. "I wasn't asking that," he says grimly. "I meant what you_ are_, the reason for your... ability. Not your profession. I already know that; I already know who you are, and what you do. If I want to know all of that, I can find it out within less than an hour."

"What I said before during my little anger rant, is true," I say carefully, and slowly. It isn't something I particularly want to reveal to him, but it is far too late now. The damage has already been done, and he caught onto it shrewdly. "I'm telepathic, and I can hear people's thoughts. If you're asking _why_ exactly, well... I can't give you a definite answer on that. And believe me, when I was a younger girl, my parent's and Grandmother tried all they can to figure out why I was the way I am. There was just no... reasonable explanation, no real rhyme or reason. We all just had to accept it, best we could."

"So, you don't know why exactly?" he asks gently.

"No, I haven't the slightest wits about why." My voice comes out far louder than I intended to speak. He's gotten me all frustrated. "It's happened ever since I literally began to talk. It just... happened. One day, I felt as normal as the next little girl. Then, all of a sudden, it changed. It was difficult for my parent's, most of all. Before my parent's died, they put me through all these excruciating tests. At first, they didn't believe me, which I guess, I can understand now. I was different, and that must be scary for any parent to realize, and try to cope with. At first, they assumed I was making the whole thing up. Gran, too. When my parent's died, she took me to this psychologist, when I was about five, I think. The lady was so determined to believe I was schizophrenic. She wanted me institutionalized, she thought it would be best for me. But Gran fought against it, and then we just decided to live with it, and put it down to it being some mysterious genetic fault."

"So, your gift does not extend to vampires?"

My gift? I hardly ever think of it as that. More like a disability. A hindrance. A pain. But the last thing I want to do is seem as though I'm complaining to him, so I try to keep it short and sweet. "That's true," I admit cautiously. "Just humans. No vampires."

He grunts in the darkness, seemingly satisfied that I'm not privy to his thoughts. He throws a side-long glance my way; The whiteness and shape of his head is about the only thing visible in the darkness to me. "Does this mean that you have the ability to read the thoughts of most humans?" His curiosity unsettles me a bit, I wasn't going to lie.

"Well, yes. Most I can. But I try real hard not to. I have my slip-ups."

"Yes, don't we all." The uneasiness I'm feeling sky-rockets to the moon. There is a dark lilt to his voice that tells me he's not so much talking about ordinary, day-to-day slip-ups.

"Don't we all- _what_?" I breathe uncertainly, though I think I already know.

"Experience inevitable slip-ups. Slip-ups that test our strength of will."

"Slip-ups, as in murdering people, you mean?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"And are those types of slip-ups something you experience often?" Mentally, I praise myself for managing to keep my voice even. Inside though, I feel my guts quiver, and an ice-cold chill break out all over, soaking through my pores.

"I did, in the beginning, yes," he admits, far too casually for my liking. "Now, not so much. You could say Godric is a very calming influence on me."

Ah. Back to Godric again.

"Your... lady friend, Pam, said that he died?" And I instantly regret that question the second it flies out of my mouth.

"He did." It's obvious he isn't a very happy camper over my asking of that. I catch the irritation in his voice, and the shift of his body as he turns away from the car, so that he can't look at me.

"Seems like its been very hard on you," I observe. I think I could understand, in some ways. Though the memories I had of my parent's were vague, I still missed them to no end.

"I don't need your half-assed pity," he whispers irritably. _Definitely not a happy camper._

"Fine, then. And I won't try to give it to you," I say grudgingly. "All I'm simply trying to say here, is that I think I understand how you feel. I can relate."

"You have no concept of what the bond between a Maker and his son means. You cannot possibly understand. You _think_ you do, but reality is, you don't. It is beyond your level of comprehension."

_Jesus Christ. What a way to successfully insult a girl's intelligence, and all it takes for him, is one mere sentence._ "I mightn't understand a whole lot, and certain things, but I do know how it feels to miss somebody closest to you. I mightn't understand entirely what... Godric and your relationship was, but as far as I'm aware of, he made you into what you are today. He taught you. My parent's did exactly the same, from birth. I think there are some similarities. You might think I can't understand, but... I... I do." Clearly, it isn't a topic he wants to discuss, so I try to steer conversation into more neutral territory. "All right, I'm sorry. I said I would be mindful from now on, and obviously you don't want to talk about this." I think deeply for a moment, wondering what to talk about. Then, at true last, it comes to me. Something about this vampire made me very curious. "Do you, or some of your other pal's, do that to human's?"

"Do what?" I've surprised him by my newest topic.

"Shackle them to walls downstairs in that underground area of Fangtasia."

"Shackle them to walls?"

"You know, women. For... sex." There, I've said it. And it isn't without difficulty of maintaining a straight face.

"Oh, for fucking?" He seems to consider his answer in serious silence for several minutes. "I used to, I admit. It was not particularly troublesome to find a willing woman. You female's seem to like vampires. I am not sure whether it is a fucked-up attraction to danger, or a fetish."

"Used to?" I whisper, catching onto it.

"Yes, _used to_. My priorities have changed."

"Then, if it's so easy for you to find willing volunteers like you say it is, why on earth did you decide to take me down into that room?"

"Because, you are the first I've wanted in over two hundred years, and not just with the sole intent of feeding from you, and fucking." How he can possibly say that, so matter-of-factly, is beyond me. It's disarming. Everything he says is.

I can't say I understand. But then, he continues after somehow becoming aware of how speechless I am. His tone is wistful, quiet.

"Can you imagine getting cock-blocked constantly for two hundred years by the very being that made you?"

I feel my lips pull down into a frown, as I attempt to assimilate that. _No, of course I couldn't imagine it._

"If you are, in fact, as intelligent as you claim to be, it might have registered to you, that my Maker appears to me, and me alone. He is not discriminative on any given time he does. No situation is clearly off-limits to my father."

I clasp both hands in my lap. "How... long exactly has he been appearing to you?" I'm simply trying to understand.

"Ever since the date of his true death. It had to have been over two hundred years ago, if you're asking for specifics..."

"How'd he... die exactly?"

I hear him inhale in deeply. _Oh, Lord. Please don't tell me I've gone and said something stupid again._

"He met his death by the very creature I am speaking to right now."

"Me?" I whisper, alarmed. "You can't possibly believe I killed your Dad! I've never even so much as met him, I swear!" I become aware of myself breathing very shallowly. I'm panicking. And then, I slowly realize he doesn't mean me, per se. Instant weight lifts off my shoulders. Oh, oops. He means _another human_, of course. _Not me._ I can't say I've been around for that long, and surely he knows that himself.

"You human's were far more hostile towards us two hundred years ago, than now." It's obvious he has thought about this a lot. He says it almost contemplatively. "Before the invention of synthetic blood, you all assumed we were your natural-born enemies. You wouldn't hesitate to strike us down." I'm horrified, and I have trouble hiding it. While I didn't understand certain things about vampires, I certainly wouldn't ever purposefully harm one, or make it my life's mission to kill them. You see it on the news daily; Vampire attacks, burnings. The hatred towards vampire's by my human race ever since they came out of the coffin, so to speak, was just incomprehensible to me. I guess it hasn't changed throughout the years, then. The attacks, and hatred. "Godric was naïve, and gullible. He held too much faith in the human race. Eventually, that faith got him killed."

"So, that's why you hold so much contempt for humans?" It suddenly all seems to click into place. No wonder he hates human's so much. My kind of people murdered his father out of sheer hate. Still, it's a bit unfair to take that out on every innocent person, and belittle them.

"That, and the knowledge that I have strengths against the human race that not even_ you_ could begin to imagine."

"So. I guess, there's some stock in that saying I've heard, then? About the older the vampire is, the stronger?"

"Yes, and you are talking to _the most_ powerful vampire existing in the state of Louisiana," he says, almost proudly, smugly. "That gives me all the power in the world, don't you think?"

_Oh, yes. It certainly does._

"It's all a bit silly, though, isn't it?" I ask wonderingly, before I'm able to stop myself. "Hating an entire race of people, just because they killed someone dear and closest to you? Not all human's are the same. That's like saying all dogs are vicious, when you know damn good and well most breeds aren't. You only get a few that are predominantly vicious by nature. That's no real reason to hate every single living creature fitting into that category."

He is silent for a very long moment. I guess my comment has made him really think. "Hate is a bit harsh," he says reluctantly, after a while. He says it as though he's admitting to something dirty, and disgusting. "I wouldn't say I hate every single human._ Some_ are tolerable. _Most_ aren't, though. They present me nothing but more reason to despise them, in the end, once their true colors show."

"So, I guess that means you despise me, too, right?" I hate that I sound so insulted, and upset by this.

"Surprisingly, no," he whispers slowly, like he is stunned by the truth of that. "In fact, this is quite refreshing; being able to hold a decent conversation with a human, without having to glamour her into remaining still and not defecating all over herself."

"Defecating?" I feel my face scrunch up in disgust. _Defecating, really? Oh, my Lord._

"Yes." I can tell he is trying to hide a smile. "I tend to have that effect on most humans."

"That's awfully horrible," I murmur, unable to conceal my horror.

"Yes, it is."

"People are _that_ scared of you?" Sure, I can understand completely why he might give people a good scare, and I'm willing to bet he does absolutely nothing to discourage it. But the fact their fear is that strong that they can't seem to control their bowels, it's unbelievable.

"It seems they are."

"I can't even imagine how I would feel if people reacted to me like that," I say thoughtlessly. Then, I shudder. I would certainly feel the slightest bit lonely, if people constantly reacted to me like that. How could you even hold a decent conversation with somebody, when half the time, they're shaking in their boots simply by being near you? He didn't seem _too_ scary to me. "I bet you do nothing to ease their mind, though," I say lightly, extremely confident on that.

"I suppose you're right. In a sense, I enjoy it. It's extremely... flattering to know I present human's so much intense fear." And he definitely isn't lying there; I can hear the satisfaction clear as day in his voice. _Downright terrible._ "And yet, here you are, first human I get that isn't shitting all over herself. It is odd, frankly."

I can feel him eyeing me speculatively again.

I hear the gentle click of his fangs sliding down, and that gives me all the warning I need; I stiffen against the car, breathe in deeply through my nose, and work my shaky hands into untying my hair from its tightly wound pony-tail. Fanning out my long hair over the sides of my neck visible to him, I pray it is enough to keep him at bay. "You put those away right now," I warn in a disgracefully trembly voice.

"Why?" He sounds very amused. Wickedly so.

"Because, truth be told, I don't much like those fangs of yours."

"Oh? You're not a fan?" I can hear the disappointment, loud and clear. _Jesus, why would he be disappointed?_

"I feel like you have only one intention in mind, when you bring them out," I inform him stiffly, "And that's trying to put them on my neck, and sipping my blood. So,_ please_ don't."

"Oh, there are other reasons."

My muscles refuse to relax from their tight, rigid position. I'm in defense mode. "Like what? What other reasons can there possibly be?"

Suddenly, he loses it. He barks out a deep laugh. The sound is ever-so-unnerving on me. "Jesus fucking Christ," he chortles, then stops abruptly, like he is trying to contain his mirth. "You truly are ignorant about vampires, aren't you, Human?"

"I suppose I am." There was no use denying it.

I hear him give out another soft chuckle. My entire body flames; I don't much enjoy people laughing at me, and treating me as if I am a joke, solely for their amusement.

"Well, I'm pleased I make you laugh, buddy. Sounds like you could do good with it in your life."

He slithers closer to me against the hood of my car, like a sneaky snake getting ready to strike. Why does he constantly insist on invading my personal space, time after time? "I cannot wait to have you. And, Miss. Stackhouse, I will not be waiting long."

I gasp. Holy ass. His words. So seductive, like he thinks I'm automatically going to drop my panties to the floor and let him have his way.

"Never going to happen, buddy," I tell him, planting it heavy on the sarcasm. I try to scoot away from him, but there isn't much space. "But you keep on dreaming, if that makes you feel any better."

"We will see about that, won't we?" It sounds very much like a threat. And a threat, indeed, it is.

I catch it when he leans over towards me slowly. Then, I feel him blowing very gently on the base of my neck. Now I'm too hot, too cold, too everything. My breath hitches in my throat, when he reaches up with his fingers and yanks my hair gently away from the side of my throat. _What's he doing now?_ Hell, if I know what he is trying to accomplish over it. And then his lips close over my skin, very softly, and I have to muffle a groan. So maybe it isn't entirely all that unpleasant one bit. It feels quite... nice. I feel the oddest sensation imaginable, stirring up in my belly. My fingers, my toes, my knees... everywhere, seems to be tingling, all because of what his mouth is doing to me. Yeah, I definitely haven't ever felt this way before.

What is this feeling? I've never experienced it before. The tingling goes straight into the area of my groin, and then it occurs to me that I am very much enjoying this. But how can that be?

"Oh... personal space," I breathe, sounding very much like a girl enjoying herself, much to my mortification. I pull my head back, successfully getting his mouth off me. What's happening to me? As a virgin, I don't understand these feelings he is bringing out of me at all. Never... have I felt like this before. Well, I know about these feelings, but I can't say I've felt or experienced them for myself.

* * *

**Thank you all so much for reading :) I know it's probably a silly fic, or terrible. It's truly flattering that you all seem to like it so far x**


	7. Perky Blood-bag

**I own nothing to do with True Blood.**

**I want to thank you all so, so much. I am so humbled, and happy that you've found enjoyment in the story, especially as I feel a bit silly at times :P Hoping you will enjoy this one, and feel free to let me know your thoughts. I absolutely love reading your reviews; They made giggle, blush, and get excited about writing. Thank you so much for the alerts, also, they make me very happy, and I'm extremely grateful, so thank you! **** You guys are the best. Hoping you enjoy this one :) x**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

_Personal space? Who really cares?_

Neck kissing slowly turns into something more, and I wasn't doing my bit in discouraging it. I'm already in over my head. I'm knee-deep in trouble.

He's pushing me up against the car, and before I know it, my arms are wrapping around his neck, and he is bringing his cold hands up to grasp at my chin to hold me in place. He tilts his head to the side, and then for some reason, I'm moaning and whimpering, and it's giving his tongue entrance. I let the tip of mine tentatively stroke his, meeting him halfway, and it isn't all that bad at all. It's quite... enjoyable.

I realize, I want this man. I want him to do things to me that I haven't ever experienced yet. I desperately want this vampire, who is known to be unpleasant and dangerous, and it appears he desperately wants me, too. And, truth be told, that was more frightening than any rumour of him. I never dreamed a man would want me, sexually. Especially not a vampire, no less.

It goes on for what feels like a lifetime, until he pushes away from me and fades off into the darkness. All I can hear is his breathing, and mine, and maybe my heart thumping away, and the tingles infecting my body again.

"You know, I never even _knew_ vampire's could do it," I say timidly, still hazy underneath the swarm of feelings overcoming me. "That's how far my ignorance extends."

He gives out a shaky laugh. I'm very pleased to know he is just as affected as I am. "Do _what_?"

"You know... sex." There, I've said the word. Yet again. I think I've broken my own track record when talking about things like sex.

"That would suck the fun out of being a vampire, if you couldn't," he says, sounding horrified at the idea of going without sex. He kind of already has- for two hundred years, if that was what he was getting at, anyhow. "We vampires are particularly known to be the best lovers." Something tells me he's trying to score brownie points over it. "Passionate, primal, and intense. I bet I could make you feel fucking great. How would you say your sex is with a human, on a scale of one-to-ten?"

_Oh Lordy. He did not just ask me that!_

"I'd say zero." It beats having to reveal the truth of the range of my inexperience.

"Zero?" he repeats, outraged.

This was the strangest conversation; Talking so openly about sex, and my lack thereof. Well, both of our lack for it, really.

I squirm uncomfortably. It's obvious he isn't going to let this topic slide by.

"What the fuck do you mean by zero?"

"Zero, as in I have no sex life to speak of, Mister." There, I've said it.

"Well, how long has it been since you have?"

I don't answer that; I hardly feel it's any of his business.

"Tell me," he commands. "Don't be so fucking coy. It's been two hundred years for me. How long? Two years, for you, maybe?"

"Two years," I scoff, insulted.

"Now that's what I thought it was." He grunts to himself in the dark. Obviously we've reached another misunderstanding... "Well, when you did have sex with a human two years ago, how did you find it? Was he up to snuff? Did he grant you pleasure?"

And then, I've downright had enough, as far as feeling invaded and embarrassed goes. I collect my purse off the hood, and attempt to scoot over to the door of my car. And then, just like that, he is all up into my personal space again.

"Well?"

"This isn't something I feel much like talking to you about, buddy," I mutter, putting it lightly.

"It's a simple fucking question."

"No, it isn't." I'm acting so ashamed by this. What's the big deal? _Straighten your shoulders, Stackhouse_, I tell myself sternly. "I wouldn't know how to rate a guy in the bedroom department, and I certainly wouldn't know about sex and pleasure."

"So, it was _that_ bad that it was practically forgettable?" he asks, confused, misunderstanding me yet again. _Did I really have to spell it out to him? Good Lord!_

"I have a non-existent sex life, and I don't have sex, all right?"

"Never?" he whispers, shocked.

"Never." Something tells me I need a flashing neon-sign planted on my forehead, with 'Virgin' on it. "I don't have sex, and I've never done it."

You can almost feel the excruciating silence on his end. "You're a virgin." He says it so sympathetically, like he is doing me a kindness in voicing it in that light. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Yes, that is _exactly_ what I am trying to say!" _Finally._ I almost feel like dancing in glee. _He's hit the mark on the head!_

"How is that possible?"

"Well, I guess, I've been very... reluctant. Since I can hear most human's thoughts, I don't exactly want to be in the middle of sex, and then getting a rude awakening when I hear that they're thinking about some other girl while being with me."

"Couldn't you still just do it, anyway?"

"Sure, I could have," I sigh heavily. I certainly could have; But it would have taken away my enjoyment, and I _at least_ wanted to enjoy it, being my first time. "But then, it would feel as though I was cheating myself, in a sense. If the guy gets to enjoy it, then why can't I?"

"Couldn't you just ignore their fucking thoughts, and get it over with? Who says you mightn't still enjoy it?"

"Right." I laugh dubiously. "And would you be able to ignore your Godric, if say, he appears to you every five minutes while you're trying to do it?"

"No, I definitely couldn't..." He groans. "That's the problem. He interferes with my concentration with all of his Gandhi bullshit."

"Well, there you go. Now you know how I feel." I turn on my side to open the door of my car. One of his hands mysteriously pop up on my back from behind me. I don't know how he moves so fast, but he just did. It's a vampire thing, I'm presuming.

"You say you are unable to hear vampire's thoughts with this little gift of yours," he begins, sounding very thoughtful. I can almost hear his brain working overtime. He's thinking something through very deeply, speculating. "Therefore, you cannot hear mine. Is that correct?"

"Yes, siree," I breathe, confused. What's his point?

"You continue to go on about a certain silence. It is a silence that I give you, when being around you. Correct?"

"Yes, that's true." And the silence was amazing. I no longer felt as if I had tension bouncing around my skull while attempting to put my guard up. The silence around him was, quite simply... orgasmic.

"And Godric may not appear to me..." His voice is extremely husky against my right earlobe, and he runs his hand slowly down the centre of my back, a bit like a caress. I almost shiver; The coldness of his fingertips seeps through the material of my shirt, chilling my skin. He gives out a big, old wistful sigh, fanning his breath over the side of my face. He must be super close to me, then, and realising that, it doesn't exactly make me feel over-the-moon. "The incentive has changed, and it may be more than enough for my father."

I get those odd feelings like before, the ones I felt when he was kissing my neck; The strange tingling sensations. His closeness and that deep, needy voice breathing in my ear, it sends the tingling straight _down there._ And that tingling was dangerous; I could very well do some things I might come to regret later.

"Yield to me," he moans, a bit like a man pleading for water, after a forty-mile marathon. And his breathing is much the same; Urgent, shallow, and uneven. You'd think he'd just made it back from a very arduous hike. "I will give you silence, and pleasure, and your repayment will be in giving me the pleasure I haven't had in over _two hundred_ fucking years."

Everything is quaking around me- the gravel underneath my shoes, my car, my body- and not entirely in a bad way. This is finally it. I've finally met a man I want to actually have sex with. And he is hardly what you could call a normal man; He is a vampire, and an apparently well-known, ruthless one at that. My breathing alters, as he runs his hand down my back again, a bit like I'm a fluffy kitten he is stroking. I want this man. I want all of him. And that is frightening- more than any rumours I could hear about him, or those fangs.

I actually want my first time to be with somebody like him, and it leaves me feeling incredibly shaken. Those feelings inside me, all the tingling, and exhilaration to just let go and do something naughty with him, slowly chugs into fear and unease.

I want this man, and I've never wanted something like this before so much in my entire life.

My knees threaten to buckle out from underneath me. I'm in fight or flight mode.

"Look, I've got to go," I say, wrenching open the door to my car; my voice coming out small and scared.

"What?" he asks loudly, sounding extremely pissed-off. _Well, too bad. _"You cannot be fucking serious! Yield to me... I..." He stops abruptly, and I hear him growl, very irritated, "Oh, fuck off, Godric! Not now!" Oh. Godric's back again. "What will you have me do about this? _What_?"

"You'd have to meet my Grandmother," I say, surprising myself that I would even contemplate it. Where did that suggestion even come from? A deep, deep part inside of me, clearly.

"What?"

"You'd have to meet my Grandmother," I say again, loudly. "If that even was me you were talking to then, and not Godric. What will you have to do? Well, you can start by meeting my Gran, and making yourself look all nice and decent for her, and not much like that scary vampire you were on television."

"But I don't meet human's families."

"Well, then. I can't help you with this... sex thing." All right. I'm definitely breaking my record.

"You will let me have sex with you, if I meet your fucking Grandmother?"

"Well, yes." _Jesus. What am I saying?_

"Agreed, then." _I wasn't expecting that. _"I will come tomorrow, and meet your Grandmother. And then, we will rectify our situation." Oh, here he goes about our situation again.

"All right. Deal." But then, as I get down the road in my car, I realize I've done an incredibly thoughtless and stupid thing. What am I doing? But it was too late. And besides, who am I kidding? Maybe I wanted sex with him. _Who wouldn't?_

* * *

"I don't know about this, Sookie, dear," my Grandmother says, once I've given the idea to her next evening. She's thinking Eric Northman will be as unpleasant as he was a few days ago, on live television.

"Gran, he's not that bad," I assure her, sweetly. "And I really would like you to meet him, and to see that first-hand for yourself." He's just a troubled, misunderstood vampire. I'm sure once Gran met him in the flesh, she would come to realize he wasn't all that terrible.

She gives me an odd look, one I can't quite understand, as I dab on some lipstick.

"Sookie, you like this vampire?" she asks, sounding convinced. And slightly worried, also. "I don't know, dear." Her small body is screaming with reluctance. "I just don't know. He seems very... brutal, if that interview was anything to go by. He doesn't appear as if he likes human's at all. Just be careful, won't you?"

"Well, Gran, it's a bit too late to cancel it," I tell her apologetically. "It's already a done deal." I peer over at the clock in the living room; I've always loved Gran's clock on the wall. It's shaped like a cat, and it even has whiskers. Very funky. "And it's already six-thirty. It's already sun-down. He'll probably be coming here in a few minutes." _Or a few seconds, more like it_. The instance I say it, there's a foreboding knock on the front door.

Gran jolts a fraction on the couch, and gulps. She clutches her chest with her wrinkly hands.

"Gran, it'll be fine."

"I don't know, Sookie. I just don't-"

_Another loud knock._

We look into the hallway for a second before I stand up to go answer the door. Gran is positively fluttery with nerves. Reassuring her didn't help one bit; She was still stuck on that television interview, and how vicious he seemed to be. Luckily, I had faith that he wasn't vicious. Surely, it was all just for show, right?

I open the door, and he turns from peering out into Gran's long yard to look at me.

Instantly, my stomach sinks. I'm not quite sure why I feel so disappointed, but I do. Maybe it's because he looks so positively vampirish this evening, and sinful as all hell. I just automatically assumed he would understand since I haven't met any vampires, my Grandmother would be caught in the same pickle. I would have expected him to show up to meet my Grandmother looking nice, and harmless, in a tuxedo like the one he wore on live television. What I got instead, was a very menacing outfit. He is wearing the tightest jeans I think I've ever seen a man wear, and they are all holey at the knees and black. He also is wearing a tight, sleeveless shirt- black, naturally- with the very charming slogan on the front in red writing: 'Blood Donors Needed'. We spend a moment eyeballing each other's outfits, and it becomes obvious to me he dressed this way on purpose to annoy me. Was it too much to ask that he look nice, and unlike a vampire, just for one evening? At least, the fangs were away. But I had gone all-out; In the special blue dress I wear on rare occasions, and a light yellow cardigan. Plus, I put on tons of make-up for him; Including rouge, and red lipstick.

I shake my head at him sadly. I do not get the choice of outfit at all.

"What?" he asks, raking a hand through his slicked back hair, a bit self-consciously. _Well, hey. At least his hair's neat for the occasion._

"I can't believe you," I manage, once I'm able to find my voice again over the intense anger I feel. "Is it possible for you to try not to look so..." I trail off, uncertain on how to put it.

"Sexy?"

"No, that's definitely not the word I'm looking for."

"Attractive, then?"

"Nope. Definitely not that, either."

"Fuck-worthy?"

I flap my arms around helplessly. I feel like wringing his neck. "Like a vampire, is more what I'm searching for here, buddy."

His lips twitch. "Do you forget?" He spreads his big hands out in front of him. "This is what I am. This is what I was made into. I don't see any fucking point in hiding it. This is me; take it or leave it!" His eyebrows pinch together. I've insulted him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey. You go ahead and wear whatever you like, just please be nice in front of my Grandmother. You mightn't scare me much, but you'll certainly scare her. So _please_, watch yourself." I can't seem to get anything right. I always seem to be offending him somehow, without even knowing I've done it.

"_Honey_?" he repeats quietly, looking like I've just swatted him over the head.

"I call everybody that, mostly. I don't mean... nothing by it." I swear, he was a hard one not to offend. He just feels defensive about everything, obviously.

"For the record, my name is Eric. Not 'Honey', or 'Mister'. And 'Buddy'... well, that isn't even close."

I try not to roll my eyes. "All right, _Eric_."

"Good. I'm just making that very clear on you, Perky Blood-bag."

_Perky Blood-bag?_ Now it's my turn to feel like I've been swatted on the side of my head. "What did you just go calling me?"

He looks as if he is trying his mighty hardest not to laugh. His eyes glisten with humour. "You heard me. You know what I said."

"I sure did, but I do not appreciate being called that!"

"Then call me by my name, and I will call you by yours," he says, cocking his head to one side with the ghost of a smile.

"Fine, then. I will, _Eric_."

He gives me a nod, letting his appreciation show. "Much better." Then, slowly, he turns and looks out across my yard again. I haven't the slightest idea what's captured his attention. _Godric, maybe?_ I crane my neck, searching the yard with my eyes myself. Nothing. I can't much see through the dark of the yard, anyhow.

"_What_ are you staring at?" I ask, feeling stupid.

"You have a vampire living next door to you," he informs me, matter-of-factly. I feel my eyes widen. Well, I'll be damned. I never knew.

"I do?"

"Yes, you do."

I catch an odd shift in his expression; I can tell he is gritting his teeth together, by the way the muscles of his jaw twitches. And then, stunning me, he brings up a hand and flips- what I am _assuming_ is _our_ vampire neighbour- the middle finger. He chuckles underneath his breath darkly, when I snatch his wrist, and try to wrench his hand down.

"Hey," I gasp. "That is very rude!"

His deviant expression shifts into a more stern, serious one directed at me. "Fucker deserves it."

"Well, thank you," I breathe, miffed. "I don't exactly want to make an enemy out of my vampire next door neighbour. Now I'll probably be on his hit-list just for standing near you!"

"You _won't_ be," he mutters, sounding very assured. "_No one_ will harm you."

"And how'd you figure that out?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. I'm hardly convinced.

"Because it has already been established that you are my human, and that you belong to me, and me alone. No one would think twice into causing you any harm. If they do, they know the consequences. They will have to deal with me, and I'm not known as a vampire you would like to fuck with." I roll my eyes this time, very obviously for him to see it. There he goes again. He says it like I ought to feel humbled.

"I am not your human, buddy. I would appreciate it if you could stop referring to me, like that."

"Well, tough shit."

"No," I argue, though I try to keep my voice low. I don't want Gran hearing, after all. "No tough shit. I am a girl who is her own person. I am not anybody's, but myself, and the good Lord's himself."

"Well, in this day and age where vampire's are very prominent, you have to be a vampire's human. Otherwise, you're just fucking dead, useless meat for any vampire. Does that _appeal_ to you? Would you_ like_ for any vampire to just stumble upon you and kill you at the drop of a hat, without any consequence?"

Of course I don't, and he sure as hell can see that.

He nods, and grunts. "Now that's what I thought." His eyes roam down my dress, and he licks his lips. "It is better to be my human, otherwise fuck-tards like Compton will be coming in for the kill."

"Compton?"

"That is his name; William Thomas Compton." He utters it like it leaves a lingering foul taste on his tongue. He turns back to look in the direction of where he so inconsiderately gave the bird before. "You do have to wonder why it is that he has returned here. He hasn't lived in the Compton residence for years, so why the fuck now?" And it's obvious he is talking to himself, and that he's zooming off into his own private world of thoughts; Thoughts, amazingly, that I can't hear, and I love that I can't. "Unless, he is under orders, and there is something here that..." He stops abruptly, and peers down at me. There's something spooky in his expression. I feel all the little hair's on my arms raise from my skin. And then, quickly, he looks away, and licks his lips again. "Well, let's get this fucking thing over will, shall we? I said that I would meet your Grandmother. Lead the way, Perky Blood-bag."

I gasp, and have a very intense urge to hit him. "You stop calling me that!"

He sighs loudly. "Just hurry it up. Let's get this ridiculous ordeal over with already."

"Fine," I mumble stiffly, deciding to let it slip. For the time being, anyhow.

Reluctantly, I may as well add, because I think I was starting to realize this was a huge mistake, I open the fly-screened door for him, and step aside for him to enter. Once I feel him right on my tail, I start laying down some very strict ground rules.

"My Grandmother is very much like me. She hasn't met a vampire before, so please don't bring out your fangs. I fear it'll frighten her," I tell him honestly. "Oh, and _another thing_, no swearing. My Grandmother hates curse words as much as I do. She saw you on that television interview, and she thought you were daunting. So, please... try to be nice, all right?" I turn to look at him. He isn't even standing behind me. _What? _"Eric?" I hiss around me.

"I am here," he calls from the front door petulantly. I storm back the way I entered and, sure enough, he is just standing there with a shoulder pressed against the fly-screen door, looking awkward, and annoyed.

"What are you doing standing there?"

He sighs, and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "You have to invite me in."

"I have to do- what?"

"Invite. Me. In," he says slowly, placing firm emphasize on each word, like I'm deaf.

"Can't you just walk in?" I ask, feeling breathless in wonder.

"No, that is not possible for me."

"Hmm." I smile brightly. The knowledge pleases me wildly. "I'll have to remember that." He combs both hands through his hair in exasperation, eyeing me expectantly. I simply stare back at him, enjoying his powerless state in all of this. _I am a wickedly, wickedly happy girl._

"Well?" He prompts bitterly. "Hurry it up."

"Oh, Eric Northman," I say, hamming it up with phony politeness, "Won't you please come into my home?"

"Finally," he growls, stepping in; his big, black combat boots slapping against the polished floorboards. He isn't a very happy vampire one bit. Oddly enough, it does very funny things to my system. Now I can only pray this goes well with Gran.


	8. Meeting Gran

**I own nothing to do with True Blood obviously. Thank you all so much, hope you enjoy this one and that it isn't terrible. You all are really the best, thank you!**

* * *

_**Chapter Eight** _

Soon as we cross into the living room where my Grandmother is sitting perched in her armchair, I know there is no turning back. Gran stands from her chair slowly and stares behind me at Eric Northman with equal trepidation and puzzlement. _Yes, the great and notorious vampire Eric Northman is standing in the flesh in our cramped and homely living room, eyeing his surroundings with both fascination and dissatisfaction._

I don't quite know what he was expecting our house we lived in to look like, but this was clearly not it.

"H-hello, Mr. Northman," Gran greets, as pleasantly as she can manage. She even goes to hold out her hand for him to shake, but then recalls instantly how he reacted to that on national television. She laughs weakly and clasps her hands out in front of her instead.

"Please shake her hand," I beg flatly, making sure my Grandmother is unable to hear it.

Much to my delight, and to Gran's shock, he takes one of her hands and shakes it.

"Mrs. Stackhouse. Pleasure. Thank you for inviting me into this... small hut you call your home."

Gran tries to hide her shock, wringing her wrists. As for myself, I can't help but grin.

"It was Sookie's idea. I am actually quite surprised you are here." She gives out an embarrassed laugh, and falls back into her armchair. "Please, do sit."

It's clear to me that my Grandmother needs her distance, and she's expecting us to sit together on the faded, two-seater couch. I need my distance, too, but I plop down onto the soft couch without a word. Eric stands for a moment uncertainly, before going ahead and doing the same. The couch is pitifully small for a six-foot-something vampire; He doesn't mind hogging it. He elbows me square in my boobs as he sits. Whether he did that on purpose or not, well... that's another question altogether. I know men can be sneaky.

"Well, isn't this nice?" Gran comments, looking all fluttery with nerves again.

I try to defuse Gran's nerves somehow, with the hope of simultaneously making Eric appear less threatening to her. "Eric, I just_ love_ your shirt," I tell him, with a weak laugh. "Eric has an oddly wicked sense of humour, Gran. But your shirt, it's..." I falter awkwardly, feeling my grin lose some of its good-natured strength. How do I even begin to finish? But I have to finish what I'm saying, I have to. Especially since both him and Gran are watching me, waiting. It takes me a good moment to think of how to comment on it. "It's... hilarious. 'Blood Donors Needed', it's... exactly something a vampire would wear. I love it." Maybe I'm hamming it up a bit too much, because he gives me a peculiar look from where he is sitting next to me- and it isn't exactly an encouraging one, neither.

He raises an eyebrow at me. He totally thinks I'm crazy, but tough titties. It takes one to know one, and he isn't exactly poster-boy for sanity, either. His father, who made him vampire, Godric, appears to him in invisible form, and he engages in screaming matches with him. I, in return, can hear people's thoughts, and occasionally answer to them out in the open, similarly as if I am talking to an invisible force myself. So, in all things considered, we're almost as crazy as each other. So, what gives him right to stare at me in that way? How rude.

"But I _truly_ do like your shirt," I amend rapidly and, to show it, a bit awkwardly, I scoot over on the couch to pat his shoulder with my hand, our thighs touching. He doesn't take his eyes off me, and I can just tell he deems me an idiot. It's really too close for comfort, so I try to shift back over the cushion to place a considerable amount of distance between us- hopefully without him noticing. It takes a lot of effort to keep my smile in place. "It's very, uhm... dark vampire humour, right there." _Gosh, I really need to stop talking. I'm making a total fool of myself._

He rests an elbow on the arm of the couch, rubbing at his chin with his fingers. "It's custom-made, which means the only vampire you will see wearing it is strictly _myself_. No clothing stores will sell this." He sounds very amused by my interest in his shirt, and nothing more, thank goodness.

I blink, weirded-out.

For some reason, that strikes me as odd, him mentioning something so normal as clothes shopping. Of course, vampire's were like humans. After all, they had to buy themselves clothes. So, why did that make me feel funny? He has to get clothes somewhere, after all; It just seems so... mundane that a vampire like him- who everyone believes to be dangerous, and brutal- would step out to a mall. Even simply imagining it, everybody turning around while innocently perusing through clothing racks, to find this big, daunting vampire standing beside them doing the same, and whimpering in fear at being close to this well-known vampire in a shopping mall... I almost laugh out loud hysterically to myself.

Gran looks surprised, also, by the normalcy of him buying clothes. I guess we both weren't expecting that.

After a while, it seems obvious Gran is finding it difficult to sit still around him. She shoots out of her armchair, and excuses herself hurriedly, making up a silly excuse about not being fully prepared in advance for our visitor. I stare after her concernedly as she scurries off into the kitchen; She still seems very nervous. Eric stares after her, too. He really is trying very hard to be on his best behaviour tonight, and that was very lovely of him. Not to mention downright relieving. What a load off my back.

Our ginger cat, Tina, rubs up against his right trouser leg, making herself known. I feel nervous and incredibly fidgety, when he leans over to glance down at her, with an endearing mixture of both surprise and disgust; his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. He clearly has himself a fan in Tina. Bravely, she rubs up against him again, muzzling her furry head into his ankle, trying to coax him into giving her a pat.

I guess an animal can't even stay away, and I always assumed they naturally could judge when danger was looking them straight in the eye.

She gives out a few rumbling purrs, while she's at it. I want to laugh, but try not to. I catch his big hands ball into tight fists at his knees; all sinewy and strong, his knuckles straining whiter than they already are for an undead man with no blood circulation. All he would have to do is reach down and scruff her by the neck. I'm holding my breath, and praying he won't.

"What is this?" His voice is quiet, as he gazes down at Tina impassively. I can't believe he isn't melting at the sight of her. How could you not want to cuddle an adorable, fluffy cat like Tina? Often, I find it very hard myself, and she's very cuddly and affectionate when she wants to be. Sometimes, she'll crawl up onto my bed and curl up on my stomach. How is he not crumbling and caving in? "What does it want?" he breathes out loud, in confusion.

"Her name is Tina, not It. And she simply wants a pat from you." Obviously he isn't accustomed to pets all that well.

"A pat?"

"Scratch her behind the ears. Go on," I tell him gently, because it's evident he needs a little bit of encouragement.

His lips curl up into a reluctant grimace, as he bends down over the couch to get to her. Just as I fear, he grasps Tina behind her front legs and lifts her into the air, holding her at arm's length. He scrutinizes her carefully for a very long moment. Luckily, she doesn't give out any hisses of pain, so I'm assuming his hold on her isn't too tight. He seems so... surprised by her. So... intrigued, and sickened. Tina stares back at him with wide and innocent light blue eyes. And then, carefully- I note with extreme relief- he plops her down into his lap, and sighs, giving her what she wants most, in scratching her between her ears with his fingers.

My heart warms at the sight. _Brutal and dangerous, my butt._ If he was as brutal and dangerous as people say he is, why isn't he flinging Gran's cat around the room by now and smearing her blood all over the walls, like a lunatic? The way he is reacting to Tina so well speaks volumes to me. He isn't evil, or mean. He's just... grumpy at the best of times, like we all were. You could hardly fault a person - or a vampire- for that.

"Why is she vibrating?" he asks, a bit uneasily. "Am I hurting her?" He sounds truly worried. Oh, be still, my heart.

"She likes you. She does that to show she enjoys being petted."

"But why is she making that noise?"

Jesus Christ Almighty. Hasn't he been around a cat before? "She's just expressing that she loves the attention."

Gran returns a moment later, clutching a rattling tray of saucers and made-up sandwiches. Eric shifts uncomfortably and pushes Tina off his lap. To show her unhappiness, she darts out of the room with a gentle mewing sound.

"Had I known you were coming here a bit earlier, I would have prepared some snacks in advance, Mr. Northman," Gran laughs nervously in a tremendously shaky voice, setting the tray onto the coffee table. She's gone all-out; Making coffee, and pickled sandwiches. I think it's definitely slipped her mind that Eric's a vampire. Can he even eat pickled sandwiches and drink coffee? Hell, if I know. All I know, is that I'm feeling terribly hungry. I smile at Gran, and reach over to snatch up a sandwich. I guess it's the nerves doing it to me. Gran snatches one up, too, holding it between her trembling hands. I feel a bit rude, because I notice, clear as crystal, that Eric hasn't moved to grab one for himself.

I peek over at him anxiously, holding the bread to my mouth.

With a grunt, he slides closer to the coffee table and picks a pickled sandwich up. I can't help but stare in wonder, when he crams a big mouthful into his mouth greedily, like a man who hasn't eaten in weeks. Are vampires even meant to eat regular food? As far as I was aware of, vampires were all blood, blood, blood. I catch Gran eyeing him in awe, also.

"Delicious," he murmurs at Gran, though I can tell his heart isn't quite in it. The expression on his face gives him away completely; It's a struggle for him to even hold the bite in, and his mouth is scrunched up in revulsion.

When Gran hum's to herself in delight, very pleased in his amiable behaviour, I force myself into eating my sandwich. When Gran has her attention fixed on her sandwich, I spot him spitting his mouthful of pickle sandwich into his hand. That hand goes directly into the pocket of his jeans, and when it comes back out, I can tell he's stuffed food into his pocket. How strange. An unnerved giggle gets stuck in my throat. If he can't eat regular old human food, why did he bother with it? But then, it dawns onto me that maybe he did it because he was trying his mighty hardest to fit in, with us two normal human folk. If so, how... nice of him. A bit unnecessary, because why on earth would Gran and I get offended if he just said out-right he couldn't eat it? I appreciated the gesture, none the less.

The conversations run a bit awkward after that. It's obvious no one knows what to say. Gran comments on the weather tonight, and Eric says, "Yes, it is great, isn't it?It fu-" He's about to slip up, and use his beloved swear-word, but thankfully, he stops himself just in the nick of time. When Gran beckons us all to drink up our coffee, he touches the glass politely to his lips, and pretends to slurp some down. But I know he is only doing that for show, and I'm almost glad that he is; I wouldn't want him to have to force himself into doing something he couldn't do, as a vampire, like he just had with the sandwich, of course.

After more uncomfortable silence, Gran picked an even more excruciatingly awkward topic to rub it all in for good measure. "So, Mr. Northman. Do tell me, as I am very interested... what are your intentions for my Granddaughter?" Bless her, she actually sounded afraid, like she assumed his intentions for me was eating me up like a good meal.

"My intentions are well and good," he says to her softly, with a short laugh that sounds forced. When I steal a peek at him, he winks at me.

_Winking! Dirty vampire!_

"Now forgive me, if I am being intrusive here," Gran begins, remembering all her formality, "But I do not recall knowing how old you are, Mr. Northman?" She gives him an uncertain look. "May I ask that?" My interest has spiked myself. I steal another look up at him, to find he looks more the merrier. He is leaning back in the couch, his hands crossed behind his head, looking the epitome of male confidence.

Obviously he's very pleased she has bothered to ask.

"I am a thousand and twelve years old," he informs her, sounding very proud of himself that he has managed to live that long. I try to hide my shock, and take a very long sip of my coffee, hoping not to give too much away. Holy hell. A thousand years old? How can that be true?

"Oh my," Gran gasps, very happy. She clutches a shaky hand at her chest, and laughs breathlessly. Her nervousness is now long forgotten. "Do you remember much?" she asks, her sweet frail voice eager.

"I remember _everything_."

Gran looks on the verge of bursting out crying in joy. She's always loved hearing about the world, and the ways of living years before her birth into existence. "Could you tell me?"

"Abso-fuc-" He stops himself again, and clears his throat loudly. "Absolutely." And so things begin to get more interesting.

I find out a whole lot myself. Eric lived as a fighter, in the Viking Era, born and bred from royal blood. I can't help but notice halfway through his excited retellings to Gran that his voice slips into an odd lilting accent, of some European descent. He goes wild with gesticulations, imitating the way he held his sword as he pillaged the lands centuries ago, and I'm very happy to see Gran hanging off his every word. She's even leaning across the coffee table in her armchair, hanging on for more and more. Suddenly, I felt very confident in my decision to make Gran and Eric meet. Now she could see for herself that he wasn't that bad-mannered, insolent vampire she had seen on television. He was a man who was very interesting, and who has experienced different walks of lifes before her time. She was eating up every single word he said, on how he was born and raised. Eric seems quite relaxed in talking about it, and clearly her excitement spurred him on. By the time eleven thirty at night came- way past Gran's usual bedtime- she was still hanging on for more.

"Do you still have some artifacts from when you were there?" she asks happily. "Like your sword, for instance?"

Eric looks playfully insulted that she dared to ask. "Of course, I do," he huffs out. "It is in my office, right as we speak, hanging on the wall." Hmm. So that's what the sword was? The one I saw in there, with all the intricate little carvings on it...

Gran's excitement deflates for a second, before she asks, hopefully, "Oh, would you mind bringing it around some time? I sure would like to see it!"

"Of course." He's being so pleasant, it's mind-boggling. I can't believe this is the same Eric Northman anymore. It's so amazing to see him like this, unlike a vampire and so decent to my Grandmother. So open, and friendly, with her. Not like his grumpy self at all. But then, Gran's next question grinds on him, so suddenly and without warning, it's worrisome.

"What about your father's Viking crown? Do you happen to have that, also? I sure would love to see it, also. This is so fascinating!

His reaction to that harmless question is frightening; Within a split second, he looks more like a vampire than ever before. His stance changes from relaxed and open with Gran, to defensive and moody, like all the times he has been around me- angry even. The fangs even click out, whether he intended them to or not.

"No, I do not have that in my possession," he snaps at her through his fangs, and Gran dives back into her armchair, stunned. Her face is wide-eyed in alarm, matching mine, no doubt.

"Eric," I whisper gently, in warning. Boy, oh, boy. I've never seen him look this lethally angry before. He turns to glare at me, his eyes cold, his white fangs bared to me. He is breathing so roughly he is growling deeply almost. What the hell? I don't know what makes me so brave, but I place both my hands on each side of his face, staring at him intently. His eyes widen, and then he makes that deliberate lip movement, retracting his fangs. The fear and wariness leaves my body almost instantly.

He closes his eyes tightly, in a way that tells me he is trying to control himself, and rein in his temper. He's very shaken- and I haven't two wits into why. What the hell is happening here? How did a nice and pleasant evening turn into an almost violent one?

"Excuse me," he breathes, his eyes still tightly pinched closed. "Certain things I feel touchy discussing. This is one of them."

"Oh, that's fine," Gran whispers, sounding a bit relieved that he doesn't sound as angry as he did previously. She is still very much frightened. I realize belatedly that my hands are still clutching onto his face. How rude of me. But as I go to remove them, I don't know how he senses that, but somehow he does.

His eyes flit open immediately, and he stares at me with a hard glint in his eyes. A vein in his forehead twitches. "Don't move," he says, his voice coming out all raspy and dangerous.

"Um, all right," I whisper hoarsely. He must really like me touching him, then. I try to remain as still as possible, my hands resting on the sides of his face. This is... weird. The oddest experience ever. He stares at me, into my eyes, a bit like we're engaging in some weird staring contest. What is going on here? What is he doing?

"Don't mind me," Gran says, after a while, a bit spooked herself. "You two go on, pretending like I'm not here."

Eventually, at true last, when my arms start to ache, he finally lets me put them back down into my lap. Crazy evening, it turned out to be. Full of surprises, and confusion. After the tension has died down in the room, and Eric looks less shaken up, he rises from the chair, and smiles pleasantly at Gran. It's a strained, fake smile.

"Well, thank you for this evening. It has been... pleasant." He sounds surprised himself. "I, uhm... apologize." It's obvious he isn't one to apologize often; He looks embarrassed just having to say it. "Pick a date, and I will bring my sword over to you." And, just like that... everything is all forgotten and Gran is entranced again. They pick a date, two evenings from tonight, and then after farewells are made, Eric turns to me meaningfully. "I might take your Granddaughter out for a walk." He isn't exactly asking permission from Gran, but he sort of is, in a sense. And it leaves me feeling as if I'm a dog, or something...

_Take me for a walk. I am a dog. Thank you, Mister._

Pretending that I love the idea, I plant a smile on my face and storm out briskly into the hallway. This time I check for certain that he is with me. He has the grumpy look going on again, strategically in place for me. Wonderful. It's exactly what I need.

"What the hell happened in there?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice low. "You just went all Mr. Angry Vampire again."

He doesn't speak. At least, not on my question anyhow.

"You are as slow as a fucking snail," he grumbles, from behind me. "Is it possible for you to walk a little quicker? Jesus!"

"Oh, well I am so sorry that I move too slow for your freakishly tall legs, buddy," I snap, losing my cool. What a bastard. "Let me guess: Godric goaded you on back there or something?"

"It had _nothing_ to do with Godric."

"Then _why_ did you just suddenly get all shitty in front of my Grandmother?" I whirl around in the hallway to look at him helplessly, my hands clenching at my sides painfully. He won't even look at me. Those eyes are right on my neck, probably seeing pulsing veins that he would just love to bite the shit out of.

"I don't want to talk about this with you. You wouldn't understand."

I have an urge to stomp my feet, I'm that infuriated. "Then _let me _understand, and don't you _dare _say I don't have the intelligence for it!"

"Fuck off!"

I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me!"

_Oh, yes I certainly did._

It takes me a moment to recover. I feel one of my crazy, tight smiles slip into place.

"You will not talk to me that way," I seethe through my teeth. "You will treat me like the proper, young lady that I am, Mister! I will not stand here and be talked at like that! You might be able to talk your way like that at other people, but you will not talk like that to me!"

"Well, tough shit." He leans down and gets into my face, his eyes shining crazily and steely. "I just did, didn't I?"

I push my face into his, taking it for all it's worth. I don't care if it's crazy of me, or stupid. I just don't care.

"You might scare people by being like this, but you won't scare me! You _can't _bully me with words!"

He looks like he is just dying to say some snide remark to me, but he refrains himself from it in time enough. He sighs, half growl. "Can we go outside?"

"Fine, then," I sigh, resignedly.

We don't say a single word to each other as we head outside. Instead, I listen to frogs croaking a while away in the yard, keeping my back to him. I guess the pair of us are very angry.

His phone rings unexpectedly, and it's enough to tame my wild anger once and for all. A Justin Bieber song plays.

I have to press my knuckles against my lips to stifle my laughter. _The feared Eric Northman has Justin Bieber as his ringtone! How damn priceless is that! Tonight was filled with surprises._

He glances at me sharply, just daring me to comment on it. He puffs out a gust of air through his lips in exasperation, and holds his phone over his ear.

"Northman," he answers brusquely.

Somebody squawks at him on the other line. They sound very... female. His vampire friend, Pam, perhaps?

"Now's not a good time, I'm fucking busy."

More squawking.

He runs his eyes down the length of my dress, and looks oddly enough like he is trying to hide a smirk. "Not quite like that, as much as I wish that were the case. I'm working on it." He laughs to himself, and I know he's being dirty, with whoever it is he is talking to. I just know it. "Uh, can we do this at another hour?"

His voice turns low, as he deliberately turns away from me to resume his chatting. Obviously, he doesn't want me overhearing, so I try to tune it out, best I can, and stroll on aimlessly ahead of him. I clasp my hands behind my back, and kick a rock. I hear him laughing again. There is a hard, creepy edge to it.

"Oh, and Pam, I am not very happy." Yep. I give myself a mental pat on the shoulder. Pam; I knew it! "It's one thing to go behind my back, and use my credit card on E-bay to provide for your designer fetish. But tampering with my phone... well, fuck, that is a childish move to make, even for you." Frustration is evident in his voice, even though he is far behind me, and I'm not looking at him. "I know you do... I do. I know everything... You mightn't think I do, but I know." I turn back to look at him, and his lips twitch up into a smile at me. "No, she didn't actually...She didn't need to. I already knew myself, Pam."

_What the hell is he talking about?_

"Pam, we will talk about this later..." And at that, he hangs up and stuffs his cell phone into his jeans. All it takes him, is two brisk strides, and he's standing beside me.

"Justin Bieber, eh?" I grin at him. "Who would have thought?"

Eric looks like if he could blush, he would be turning bright red right now. "For the record, I did not select that song as my ringtone."

"Sure, you didn't."

"It was Pam. She's always doing annoying shit like that. She knows I despise Justin Bieber, as an artist... if you could even call him that. His voice is as shitty as his fucking haircut."

I laugh. "Sure. The old blame-it-on-somebody-else trick. I get it, Mister."

"It's not blaming when it's the fucking truth," he hisses defensively from behind me. I laugh again.

"Then why're you getting so defensive about it?"

"I'm not."

"Sure, buddy." I'm grinning so hard, it wouldn't be surprising if my lips split apart. "Now I think I know why people are so scared of you. You're a Justin Bieber fanatic."

"Oh, go fuck yourself." He says it light-heartedly, so I know he is only just playing with me this time. No use in taking it to heart. "Or better yet, I'll do it." Out of nowhere, he stops my aimless walking by grabbing me by the hand, and pulling on it gently.

He gently strokes my fingers with his thumb. The tingles are back again.

"Gran really liked you," I say, feeling a bit shy. But he already figured that out, surely. "Tina, too. I thought she would have been a bit scared, and wary, because you're a vampire, but... oddly enough, she liked you."

"Yes, I liked your Grandmother, also. Your... Tina, too." I can tell by his tone of voice that it is a very hard thing for him to admit.

"You know, you're not as bad-ass as you think. You're not mean, or dangerous, like everybody thinks you are." And it took me a lot of courage to admit that myself.

"Well, I never said I was."

"You're pretty nice and tame for a vampire."

"Am I?" He sounds very doubtful, like I'm being insincere.

"Yep." I twist my hand out from his, and slowly resume my walking. This evening, it's given me a lot of food for thought. He can be nice, if he truly tries hard enough. We can get along just fine, if we both work hard at saying the right things to each other. We walk in silence back into the yard. I feel so... strange around him. It's a bit like a drug-like, relaxed feeling. I don't have to try to put my mental guard up. I just feel all... good and normal, almost as if I was a regular girl again, without any telepathy issues. It's wonderful. "Hey, where's your car?" I croak out, only just realizing I haven't seen it. It's not parked anywhere in the yard, or down the winding long drive way. Where the hell did he park it?

"I flew all the way here," he says casually, with a shrug.

_He flew? Is he that rich? Wow_. "You have your own helicopter, you mean?"

He shoots me a don't-be-ridiculous look.

"Then, what do you mean by that?"

"Do you trust me?" he asks me mildly, out of the blue.

_Do I trust him? Do I?_ I have to think very hard on that for a minute. "Um, I don't know. Not... really." I still don't even know him all that well. "What's that got to do with how you flew here- if I trust you or not?"

He sighs, and stops stock-still in front of me. "Put your hands on my shoulders."

"Why?" I stare up at him suspiciously. Why on earth does he want me to do that? Unless he is trying to get me to invade his personal space, like he so often does mine.

"Stop asking questions. Just do it."

"Fine." Resignedly, I twist around to face him more head-on. I place my hands lightly on his shoulders, feeling around. Toned, firm shoulder blades, right there. He lifts up to rest his hands lightly on my shoulders, too. Well, this is certainly strange.

"Stand on my shoes," he directs me quietly.

My suspicion rises. I eye him carefully. "But why?"

"Just fucking do it."

I can't say I understand why, but awkwardly, I do as he says. I carefully step onto his big shoes with my own, a bit worried I'm trampling all over him. But he gives out no outwards sign of pain, thankfully. It's a bit embarrassing, being so close to him, and I lose my balance, and find myself leaning my body against him. Our bodies are pressing together. It's the strangest sensation imaginable. I'm pretty sure my cleavage is pressed up against him. How embarrassing. I feel an odd movement, a peculiar floating sensation, as his hands come around my shoulders and behind my back, holding me in close.

"I thought you didn't like dancing?"

"Oh, this isn't dancing, and I do hate it. This is levitating."

"What?"

"Look and see for yourself," he says, very amused by my reaction.

I look down around us. Holy ass. I breathe out an uneven sigh of bewilderment, and rapture. We're a foot off the ground, and I never even knew it. I tighten my hold on his shoulders, and he does the same, curling his arms tightly around me, until I feel my chin digging into his shirt. I'm pretty certain he is smiling at me. Maybe he could sense my fear of falling?

"Can all vampires do this?" I sound so breathless, and my voice sounds very high with my excitement.

He scoffs. " Can all human's sing?"

"Nope, I definitely can't, and you wouldn't wanna hear me. I'll make your ears bleed."

"Well, like human's, we all can't do the same fucking things, either."

We come down slowly without even a lurch, until he pushes me away back onto the grass. My hands are still resting on his shoulders. I realize I quite enjoyed having my hands on him, and having an excuse to do it. Quickly, I slide my hands off his shoulders, like a good girl.

"Cool, isn't it?" He sure sounds very pleased with himself.

"It sure is. So you flew all the way here?"

"I did." His voice comes out deeper and gruffer with excitement himself.

"Cool." We falter into an awkward silence. I just don't know what else to say, and it seems neither does he. What on earth should we talk about now? "What's it like being a vampire?" It's the best I can come up with. "How do you... live?"

"Not much different, from you. I sleep, I eat. I work for a living, and I used to fuck. Before Godric, anyway."

"You sleep? How, though? I mean, I don't recall you having a bed? Do you have a bed?" Is that too personal or silly to ask? I'm curious, I can't help it.

"No, I don't have a bed," he mutters, very stiffly and annoyed. Well, too bad. It's his problem if he thinks I'm asking silly questions. I sincerely care to know.

"Where do you sleep then?" Underground? In dirt?

"I sleep in a coffin."

I almost laugh out loud in disbelief. "A coffin? You sleep in a coffin, seriously?" I slip up, shaking in silent laughter. Now why is that so hilarious to me?

"What's so fucking funny?"

"Sorry." I smile up at him apologetically. "It's just... I never knew vampires sleep in coffins. I would have never thought that."

"Well, we do. Maybe I could show you it, sometime?" He suggests it casually, but I can't help noticing there's something dirty in his tone. Is this his way of picking a girl up? Charming the pants off her, maybe?

"I don't know." I suddenly feel very uneasy. "It's just... the only coffin I want to make my bed in, is the one I'm having at my funeral."

"Make your bed in?" He sounds very enchanted by my choice of words. He leans down and whispers in my ear, "Interesting choice of words. Maybe we can fuck it out in my coffin? After all, there is always a first for everything." Holy cow- that was rude, and dirty. Coffin sex. He leans back from my ear, and continues, more loudly, "And besides, we still have an arrangement to settle. I've honoured my part of the bargain, now it is your turn. Just give me a place and when." His eagerness to get down and dirty with me unsettles me in a whole new way.

"I know I said I would... let you have sex with me, if you met my Grandmother," I start anxiously.

"You did."

"But what I didn't say, was a definite time and place. And that time and place... it _isn't _now."

"You _said_ you would give yourself to me." He's speaking through clenched teeth. "I stayed true to our arrangement, and now it's your turn to honour our side of it!"

I shake my head helplessly. "I don't even know you properly!"

"So?" His voice is careless. "What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"I am _not_ that type of girl!" _Jesus, wasn't that obvious?_

"Oh, and I suppose I am the fucking type of man who meets a human's elderly companion and sits around like an old, senile man?"

"Just not tonight, is all I'm saying!" I'm almost shouting. "I _will _honour my side of it! I'm not a girl who goes back on her promises!"

"Good," he nods, satisfied. "Because if you were, I am sure I can find plenty of ways to enforce it on you."

_Enforce it on me? Jesus_. "You can't make me!"

"Technically, I can." He grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me into him. I moan my protest, and squirm underneath his intense, concentrated gaze. And we're back to having a staring contest again.

"What are you doing?" I breathe out, all trembly and shaken.

"Now that is exactly what I thought," he grumbles, letting me fling myself loose. "It doesn't work. Why the fuck not?"

"What doesn't?"

"Glamouring you."

"What? So, now you're glamouring me into having sex with you?"

"I just wanted to see if my first impressions were correct." He eyes me like I'm something foreign stuck on his shoe. "All the more reason to know you are not as human as you think." _Oh, so we're back to this again, are we?_

"I don't much like what you're implying, buddy!"

"In all my long life, this has never happened, and there is certainly something different about you. You are unlike any human I have ever met." _Is that supposed to be a compliment, or an insult?_

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you are immune to our powers, and you don't even hold fear. You _don't_ fear _me_."

"Right. So, I am _crazy _because I'm not scared of you?" I laugh out loud bitterly. "Is that what you're trying to say here?"

"I never _said_ you were crazy," he mumbles defensively. He throws his hands around. "Don't put words in my fucking mouth!"

"Well, don't flatter yourself," I say vehemently. "You're as scary as a misunderstood lion!"

I spin around on my heel, and storm up towards the porch. _There. Conversation ended. Night finished._

He's in front of me suddenly. One moment he is behind me, and, in the next, he is already standing by the front steps of the porch, glowering. Vampire movement; Quick and speedy. Gotta admire that.

"I will return two evenings from now with my sword."

"Yes, thank you. My Gran will just love that." I'm still cheesed-off, and so he is obviously.

"And _what _about you? Would _you_ fucking like that?"

I step past him, making sure to knock my shoulder into his, for all its worth.

And then, just like that, he is standing in front of me again, blocking the door.

"Jesus, stop doing that!"

"I asked you a fucking question!" _God, what does he care?_

"Yes, I would like that!" There, I've said it.

"Good." He closes his eyes briefly in relief, then reopens them. Mr. Confusing.

"Goodnight," I hiss sourly. "And have fun sleeping in your coffin."

"Well, I certainly will now." He chuckles to himself, and I know he's thinking about something dirty. And his next remark confirms my suspicions. "I will envision you in it with me. Naked. Until you honour your side of our negotiation."

_Negotiation? Is that what he calls it?_

My entire face flames with heat. "Oh, go to hell," I snap at him, flipping him the bird. It just makes him laugh again.

"I will be, until then. Goodnight, my human."

I know he is just saying that to get me even angrier, so I don't even give him the time of day. I fling open the fly screen door, and storm inside. I don't look back at him, as much as I would have liked to give him the most dirtiest look I could muster.


	9. A Late Night Visit

**Thank you all so much for your sweet reviews, they meant the world to me. I'm so flattered that you all seem to enjoy the story. This chapter is a bit short, but I promise to make up for it with the next one. Hope you enjoy :-) If you're wondering why I'm tending to write Eric as angry all the time, you can blame it on Season 3, when Eric yelled: "How could you fail me?" Alexander Skarsgard is sexy, even when he yells. So that is my reason lol. Thank you all so, so much, I know this story is probably odd. :D Love you all, you're all amazing x**

* * *

_**Chapter Nine**_

When I get back inside, still pissed, I lean against the wall in the hallway for several minutes, trying to regulate my breathing. I really needed to calm down. Why is it so easy for him to get me all angry? Maybe it's because he's always angry, every five damn minutes, and that anger rubs off on me?

I try to appear all smiley for Gran, as I enter the living room. Surprisingly, she's... not there. I check the clock on the wall; It's already twelve o'clock. No wonder. She's probably in bed.

I head upstairs, and knock gently on her door, before entering to find her curled up in bed, reading one of her favorite novels, with her night-lamp on, wearing her long white nightgown.

"Sorry, honey," she laughs, when I come over to sit on the end of her bed, crossing my legs. She sits up slowly to face me, her back propped up on her pillows. "I didn't think you would be getting in until late. I thought you and Mr. Northman would be spending a lot of time talking, so I just decided to get ready for bed. I knew you'd be just fine with Mr. Northman." What a total change of events. Gran obviously wasn't as scared of him anymore.

"You reading?"

"Yes, in fact, I am." She pushes her reading glasses up over her nose. "I tried to get some sleep, but I find myself just too excited. Are you and Mr. Northman dating? Did he ask you out?"

_Good gracious._ "No, Gran, he did not," I tell her, struggling to keep my voice composed. I was still hopped-up over our argument- if you could even call it that. "Besides, I hardly think he is the type of man to ask a woman out, or to date them." Gran clearly doesn't know the type of vampire he is at all. "And besides, I don't think I would very much like to date a vampire like him."

"He was interesting, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he can be." Who am I kidding? He's very... interesting to me. Downright confusing, too. And rude.

"Did you see his fangs, when he got angry?" she asks, a little unevenly. "They were very sharp, were they not?"

"Yes, they sure did look it."

She peers over at me in silence, for a contemplative moment. "Dear, did he happen to tell you why he was so angry when I asked him about his father's Viking crown?" She frowns, worried. "I sure hope I did not offend him."

"Oh, that's just him." I shrug. "He offends real easily."

"I thought, for a moment there, that he was going to bite me." She laughs weakly, and pats her chest. "I honestly did! But then, you seemed to get a good hold on him, didn't you, dear?"

I nod briskly. "I guess so."

"Guess he needs a woman in his life, to tame that wild way. He sure does seem to like you, dear."

"Oh, Gran." I wave that comment away uneasily. "You stop that!" He didn't like me. He just only wanted one thing from me, which was to... have sex with me. Gran couldn't know that, of course.

"Did he go home to sleep?"

"He did. In his coffin." Gran lets loose a startled noise at that; I guess we both weren't expecting vampires to sleep in coffins. "He also said that he would bring his sword over for you to look at two nights from now." Well, that was putting it nicely; He sure had a whole lot more to say on it.

"I'm glad you made me meet him now," she says after a while. And I'm glad, too. "I think all those television interviews paint him in a bad light. He sure doesn't seem that bad."

"He isn't, Gran."

"Yes, I can see that now." She closes her book and slides off her glasses. "Well, I might get to sleep now, dear. I was just a bit worried that you weren't going to be coming back, I suppose."

That surprises me, her saying that, a bit; Where else would I go, after all?

"Goodnight, Gran. I love you."

"Yes, I love you, too, dear. Don't tell Jason this, but I think I love you more than him."

I laugh, and lean over to kiss her goodnight. I knew she was only playing; Gran wasn't one for favouritism. Though, it seemed she loved Jason more than me, at times, I knew she didn't; She loved the pair of us equally, as if we were her own real, two children.

Halfway towards the door, she calls curiously, "Sookie, can you read him?"

I know instantly that she's referring to my little disability. "No, Gran, I can't. I think that's why I enjoy being around him so much."

"Oh, yes." She smiles over at me sadly. "It must come as a great relief to you." And she has no idea on just how much so it was.

"Night, Gran," I whisper, smiling over at her fondly.

"Don't you go having that vampire in your room, now," she says, full of playful warning. "Oh, well. If I hear any funny noises, at least I'll know now. With Jason, it used to frighten me, until I realized..." Yes, Jason had quite the reputation of bringing ladies home for the night. All that moaning, and groaning, you could hear through the thin plaster walls. It used to keep Gran and I up all night, it was that loud and annoying. I didn't know why Gran would assume I would ever do something like that, in bringing a man into my room and doing some funny business, whether he be a vampire, or otherwise. I'm not that type of girl, after all.

"Gran, don't be silly," I scold her, while closing her door half-way. I hear the click of her night-lamp going off.

It insults me a bit, how she could ever start thinking I would be so careless as to do something, like that. It's a real cad move of Jason to bring women over into Gran's house, and then having to make us endure all that awful noise and bed-squeaking. Sometimes, I wonder how Jason and I are even related. We were so different.

I drag my feet into my room, turn on my own lamp, and close the door from behind me.

I just can't seem to get over how pleasant tonight was, with Eric Northman and my Grandmother meeting. And, I couldn't deny I was real happy that Gran saw him now for what he truly was: A somewhat flawed, decent man, with his own bundle of anger issues and problems spanning years, and years. I'm still confused over what happened though; His anger over the whole Viking-Crown-Enquiry. I don't think I had ever seen him look so angry, and truth be told, I'd seen him angry plenty of times before whenever we were together, namely at me, and over something senseless I had said and done. Why is he that way? So angry, and volatile? I hardly believe I'm the one that makes him that way.

I unzip my dress, and toss off my cardigan, and kick off my shoes, all at once, then pull my dress down past my ankles. As I step out of it, a gust of cold air hits me, and I turn to it, feeling little goose-pimples raise all over.

_Huh._

My window is pushed wide open. A light, chilly breeze escapes through the curtains, blowing everything around. I make a face, stunned. I certainly can't recall ever opening it. _Too damn fishy._ Shivering in my bra and underwear, I hastily tread my way over towards my bedroom window to slam it down. Halfway through doubling back to snatch my night-gown off the rack behind my door where it dangles, I hear a very odd, startling noise, coming from the area of my comfy double bed.

It's a very hungry, aroused sound directed at yours truly...

...Coming from a man, who sounds very delighted at seeing a women clothed in nothing but her underwear and bra.

_Holy shit._

I gasp, and throw my night-gown over my body frantically, turning towards the source of noise. My jaw almost drops to the carpet. Vampire Eric Northman is standing there by my bed, wearing the comical 'Blood Donors Needed' shirt he wore tonight while meeting Gran, and his jeans. His big hands are dangling at his sides; fingers-outstretched and grasping at thin air, like he sure wants to touch... something. He looks a bit like a man who's seen something he never expected to see, or well... at least, like he has seen something he hasn't in quite a while. He looks both equally horny and hungry, and it makes my knees weaken.

Oops. And Gran told me not to have this vampire in my room. It's a bit too late for that now, though, isn't it? I mightn't know how he got into my room, but I can't exactly say I'm unhappy he is.

"Well, t-t-this is awkward," I stutter, thanking the heavens my body is covered. His eyes flicker down from my head to my toes, evaluating me. Somehow, just with holding my night-gown over my body, it doesn't seem nearly enough. _I sure hope vampire's don't have X-Ray vision right about now_... Then again, those eyes seem like they can singe holes right through you. "Not to mention, uhm, very rude of you..."

I hardly think he is one to care about being polite, anyhow, but it feels very great reminding him of that.

"Resume," he says quietly, in an odd tone that I can't quite work out. "Don't stop on my account. Resume undressing yourself."

"Never going to happen, Mister."

Without taking his eyes off me, not even once, he bends his knees swiftly to pat my pillow with his hand. "Ah. So this is what a bed looks like..."

"Oh, please," I mutter, trying very hard to forget I'm standing in front of him, literally naked. In my eyes, being clad in only your bra and undies was pretty much as naked as you could get in front of another person. And honestly, I wasn't feeling too good right now; No, I'm feeling extremely vulnerable, and exposed. "Surely you know what a bed looks like? You may sleep in a coffin, but no doubt, when you were... er, human... you slept in a bed."

"Are you asking me into your bed, Miss. Stackhouse, as a way to refresh my memory?" He gives me a creepy intense look, trying to hide a smile, as he runs his hand down the sheet, a bit like a person petting their precious and beloved dog. _This was too damn weird. It's definitely way too late for this weirdness._

"What in the Lord's name are you doing in my bedroom, anyhow?" I ask suspiciously.

"You invited me in. Do you forget?"

"No. I know fair well I did." I tighten my satin nightgown more securely over myself. It makes me feel marginally better, if I do say so myself. "But I also know, damn good and well, that my invitation did _not_ include you entering my bedroom to spy on me. Should I add sneaky pervert to your repertoire?"

Yep. Definitely trying to stifle a wicked smile. "Well, isn't that flirtatious of you?"

"What do you want from me?" I blurt out, unnerved.

Much to my dismay, he takes a few casual steps towards me. Now I think I miss that distance. I really liked him more when he was standing at my bed.

"Oh, you already know _exactly_ what I want." And his tone makes that quite clear on me; It's huskier than usual, and full of need.

"Do I?"

"Fuck, yes. I want _everything_."

"Right." I roll my eyes. "Everything?"

"Yes, _everything_, and _you_ are the _only _one who can give it to me."

"Look, buddy," I sigh, clasping onto my nightgown even firmer. I fix my eyes onto his silly shirt instead, focusing on the writing; It's far easier that way. Somehow... it's less intimidating, and awkward. "I told you I am not the type of girl who breaks her promises, and I meant it. I know it was probably hard on you to meet my Grandmother tonight, and I appreciate that you did, and that you carried yourself as a decent, normal man. But what I refuse to have, is you coming on into my bedroom and invading my privacy, especially when I'm trying to get dressed for bed. I _refuse_ to have that."

"Don't pretend that you don't like me being in here."

Oh, my Lord.

I feel my temper flare dangerously. "What I would like, is for you to leave right this instance," I say, through clenched teeth. "You have _no_ goddamn idea of what I like, and what I do not like!"

"Jesus fucking Christ. You are wound up tightly, aren't you?"

I inhale sharply. _Me? Wound up tight? He's one to talk._

"_When_ and _if_ I ever do want you in my bedroom, I will give you that permission. But, as for now, you _do not_ have it!"

He laughs to himself. Even the sound scares the living daylights out of me, because I think I know now, that there is always something bad that comes along with that laughter...

"If you knew me well, you would know I do not ask for permission," he says harshly, and then one of his hands shoot out at me. At first, I assume he is going to grab my night-gown, and yank it off to see me, and I can't help but yelp. Rather instead, he grabs my chin with his fingers and twists my head up, and then bends down to plant a quick kiss square on my lips. _Um, all righty then. _He leans back to look down at me, and those fangs grin at me from underneath his top lip. "That is all, for the time being. Goodnight, Perky Blood-bag."

And then, there is an odd whoosh of air, and I hear my window slide into place again with a gentle thud. I glance around me nervously, clamping my lips together. And he's... gone._ Whoopee. _Something tells me I need to take back my invitation, and quickly, if there is going to be even more repercussions of this._ But how on earth do I do that?_


	10. Eyeballs

**Where do I start? I want to say a massive thank you, and an apology for taking so long to update. I had a busy week, studying, so I hope you'll forgive me and that this update is worth the wait. Love you all so much, you're all so amazing and your enjoyment of this story really surprises me, especially when it's a bit unusual and weird. So, thank you all! :D x **

* * *

_**Chapter Ten**_

Through the haze of bright morning light seeping through my curtains, I squint my eyes, and as they slowly adjust to it, I discover Eric resting his head against the pillow across from mine, smiling broadly. He looks less... grumpy and about five years younger, when he smiles. Our eyes instantly meet and lock; Brown ones, meeting blue ones. Our faces are so close together, that our noses are almost touching.

"Good morning, Perky," he murmurs amusedly. "And what a morning it is."

"I thought I told you?" I grumble. "You don't have permission to come into my room, and now... here you are, in my bed with me?" His smile widens, as he shifts over onto his stomach. He leans an elbow slowly against his pillow, and peers down at me deeply. My heart races like a mad thing in my chest. He brings one of his feet over under the sheets to hook it over one of mine, and it's then that I feel it; A whole length of bare skin pressing into the side of me... Oh, golly. He's naked. Naked, in my bed with me. And amused. _Since when?_

"Do you forget?" He asks me dryly. "You had a change of heart. You didn't want me leaving, after all, which confirms my suspicions." He leans down and whispers, against my mouth, very pompously, "You fucking like me being in here." Well, at least he hasn't lost that filthy mouth of his.

I feel my brows pull together in confusion. "I did? I asked you to stay in my bedroom with me?"

"Yes, you did." Funnily enough, I can't remember ever doing that. He seems so confident that I did, though. So, maybe I did? "Well, I'm glad you're awake now. I'd hate for these things to go to waste." Just like that, a huge porcelain bowl appears between his hands. _Whoa, Mama._

He picks whatever it is contained inside the bowl out with his fingers, and brings it over to my mouth. He glides that wet something over my lips, coercing me to open my mouth, his gaze intent on me.

"Eat the fuck up, my human," he says, almost in a daring and sensual type of way. I open my mouth, obeying, and let him slip that round something into my mouth. It's weird, round like grapes. Only, it doesn't taste like grapes, or any other round fruit; It has an odd salty tinge to it, and when I sink my teeth into it, it bursts open, full of the flavour of... blood?

"How do you like those eyeballs?" he asks casually, picking out another one with his large fingers. _Eyeballs? What? _

He shows it to me, and I groan. Round eyeballs, of different colored pupils. Brown, blue. Grey. _Oh my God!_

I gag, and bring a hand up to my mouth.

"I cut them out for you myself. It is _how much_ I fucking like you."

"No!" I gasp in disgust, trying to swallow it down. I'm going to be sick. I feel violently ill. Oh, my God!

"You see, this is why you and I are much the same," he goes on ruthlessly. "Blood-thirsty. Cannibals." He pauses and glances down at the eyeball he is holding in his fingers, pops it into his mouth, and chews slowly, without even the slightest hint of a cringe in revulsion. He cocks his head to the side, and makes a very low and deep groan of delight. "Fucking delicious." He turns to look at me, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Well, how goes it? How about another fucking eyeball, for my beloved Perky Blood-bag?"

I scream, and thrash against my pillow.

And then I'm in the safe confines of my bedroom again, huddled in bed, with my nightgown and no creepy, naked, cannibal Eric force-feeding me eyeballs. Just a dream. _Oh, what a relief. Never have I experienced a dream so odd, though. And this was the oddest one of the lot._

* * *

After my crazy dream last night, I can't say I wanted to attempt to go to sleep again anytime soon. At work, I offer to stay in and complete the latest shift, which Sam felt very surprised and grateful for. Hey, it beats sleeping, and I sure didn't want any horrible reoccurrences of that dream last night, featuring Eric Northman. The longer I stay awake, the better, in my view.

By eleven o'clock at night comes, already, I'm dead on my feet, but I try to perk myself up, as much as possible. The bar was busy tonight, and hectic, I was failing at keeping my mental guard up. I think fatigue kind of made it harder, so soon, I was hearing unwanted thoughts from left, right, and centre.

There were a whole lot of unimportant things I learned this evening, of some of the customers: One guy, who worked as part of the construction crew with my older brother, was itching to get home and download the new Maroon 5 C.D to his IPod. Another male, about in his late sixties, wished my shorts rode up a little higher so he could see more of my thighs. And Sam, my boss, oh Sam... apparently he was having this internal debate on whether I was wearing a bra tonight- which I was, of course, I never go without one. So, in all things considered, tonight was pretty lousy for me, and I had trouble with keeping even a simple smile on my face, as I greeted the customers.

Just when I got to thinking my brain was about to explode... it happens. The amazing silence waves over me gloriously, when the door of Merlotte's opens, and a person comes in. He's no doubt a vampire and, maybe, in the back of my mind, I prayed it was Eric. Only, when I turn into the direction of that brilliant silence- half-assed smile in place, and all- my stomach sank. It wasn't Eric, much to my dismay. But it was another male vampire, who was sliding into a vacant booth.

He is shorter than Eric, and dressed in simple clothes; A white tight, long-sleeve V-necked shirt, and an old pair of khaki colored trousers, with polished brown loafer shoes that my Grandfather might have even chosen to wear had I ever met him. He certainly wasn't going out of his way to make himself known as a vampire, like Eric had, when he met my Grandmother. No, he looks rather... ordinary.

He looks up at me, and his lips curl into an inviting smile. He hasn't got his fangs out on display either, which was a relief within itself. He's clearly waiting for me to serve him, so I get my brain back into gear, and work my tired limbs over to his table, clutching my pen and notepad.

"Good evening," he greets me pleasantly. For some reason, he strikes me as very familiar; Its the voice, and the wiry dark hair, that makes his complexion look sickening and pale. Why is he so damn familiar to me?

It takes me a moment to get my head straight again. "Yes, Good evening. Welcome to Merlotte's. What can I get you?"

"You have any bottles of that synthetic blood available?" I almost laugh out loud. He just makes me feel funny, and not entirely in a good way.

"Uh, sorry," I say unapologetically. "We don't, actually. I mean, we did... a few months ago, but they went bad." That was certainly an understatement; Arlene Fowler almost vomited, when one evening she went out back to check up on stock. There was an odd smell originating from the casket that held our bottles of True Blood Sam ordered inside, and when she plucked one open, maggots were wriggling inside. We had to toss them out in the trash like yesterday. "And Sam never thought of getting anymore in stock. We don't get vampires in here very much."

"Oh." An embarrassed look comes across his white face. "Am I that obvious?"

"Well, I think you asking for True Blood sort of gave you away, Mister." _Not to mention the silence_. "Can I get you anything else, maybe?"

"Well, you might as well get me a glass of water, so I don't look like a fool sitting here."

"Sure. I'll be right back with your water."

But soon as I got him a glass, it's already too late. Now he has two people sitting with him, two human low-lives, who I fondly refer to as The Rats. Mack and Denise is an engaged couple, roughly in their middle thirties. They were into drugs, I'm pretty sure. And, as I stroll over and set his glass of water by his elbow, it turns out their drug of choice tonight wasn't going to be heroin, or weed. No, I caught Mack's thoughts, and heard him clearly, and what I heard sickened me to the core. He was thinking of luring this vampire outside, and draining him, so that they could shoot up some of his blood.

"Don't you be too trusting with these two," I warn the vampire, who gives me an odd look. He's quite clearly questioning my sanity, but tough titties.

"Oh, don't mind that little girl, Mister," Mack laughs in his repulsive voice. He set a hand on the vamp's shoulder, like they were the best of friend's. "She's mad as a hatter."

I give Mack a very sour look, and dart off.

As the later hours of the evening closed in, we were about ready to close up for the night. I keep my eyes on the vampire, as much as I can, to make sure he's obliging in what I said. But when I bend down for a second to retrieve a rag to start wiping over the counter, a second is obviously time enough. When I look over again, all three of them are gone.

_Damn it all!_

"Sam, I'm just going to step out for a minute," I tell him, as calmly as possible. I'm all keen for preventing terrible things from happening to others, like no doubt the one this vampire was about to face. I waste no time in running out the door.

"Sookie?" Sam calls after me. I ignore him, and I'm very good at it.

This vampire should have heeded my warning, only he didn't. He was too trusting, and probably believed himself to be infallible. I knew better, though.

When I get outside, I hear the noises before I see them. Mack and Denise are screaming at the top of their lungs, gleeful in their victory. I race after them desperately, following the noise. I find them crouched down low over the vampire in the bushes.

"You better get away from that vampire this instance," I scream at the pair of them, trying to make my voice appear as menacing and deep as Eric's when he yells. "Or else I'm gonna go crazy on your asses!"

They startle at the sound of me, and whirl around to face me.

"Oh, you crazy little girl," Mack says unpleasantly. He turns his knife to me, and he looks real determined on stabbing me with it. "Can't keep your big nose out of nothing, can you?"

"I'm just doing what any decent human being would do, and that's keeping you two away!"

Mack swore bitterly underneath his breath, and without warning, he lunges at me. I can't say I was really expecting that. I put up a decent fight, and my body works with me. I think it was the fear of getting stabbed that was doing it. And then, something strange happens: He backs away from me fearfully, looking at something past my shoulder, and by accident, I'm presuming, his fingers loosen over his knife. It plops down into the dirt, and then his legs tremble and threaten to buckle underneath him. It's then I notice, through the lights, a big dark patch appear at his crotch in his jeans, and he whimpers in embarrassment. He's gone and royally peed himself. _What the hell? Since when do I have that effect on people?_

"Fuck, it's _him_," he whispers unevenly, then starts calling at the top of his lungs for Denise. She turns to look at me, and then her demeanour changes rapidly, from crazy-ass cow, to bat-shit scared. And then, the pair of them bolt towards their car, like their lives depend on it. It's empowering; knowing I can scare people like that.

"That's right!" I call after them in satisfaction, when their car screeches to life and they speed off around the bend and out of sight, blowing dirt. "You should be afraid of a girl like me! I'm _so_ scary and crazy!"

Everything is a peaceful quiet for about five seconds, while I stand around, feeling like the most powerful girl in the world. But then, someone snickers from behind me, and I stiffen involuntarily at the sound. It's a smug laugh, a bit like a _yeah, I got you good _laugh. I never knew there was someone standing behind me. It was the very last thing I was expecting.

"It's good to know I haven't lost my fucking touch," someone says quietly from behind me. Their voice is just above a whisper. "Dumb hillbilly mother-fucks." I think I about recognized that voice the instance he spoke; After all, who else has such a potty-mouth?

The relief hit me almost instantly.

"Eric, is that you?" I whisper breathlessly. I turn around to look at him, hoping with every inch of my fibre that it was him. Astonishingly, there isn't anyone even there. No one is even standing around behind me, not even Eric. _What?_ I could stand around aimlessly all night, but then, working very hard to get my head straight, it occurred to me belatedly that there was a dark-haired vampire in the bushes somewhere, probably even hurt, after Mack and Denise got to him so cruelly.

Maybe it wasn't Eric just then? Maybe it had all just been some strange figment of my imagination? If so, then I was as crazy as Mack no doubt deemed I was... Somebody better send me to a lunatic asylum stat.

I start on my search for the missing vampire blindly. I creep in through the bushes, listening carefully. The round moon tonight gives the only source of light and, even then, it isn't enough for me to see. All I see is creepy shapes of branches, and looming shadows jumping around. I really wish I thought of bringing a flash-light with me. But then, I catch glimpse of the whiteness of the vampire's shirt in the bleak, black background, and find him sitting by a tree, making funny noises. I can hear something burning away, and the vampire trying to hold in some agonized moans. I drop on my knees beside him, clutching onto the trunk of the tree behind him. He shifts quickly onto his side, almost as if he is just dying to put some distance between us. Smoke wafts around my face and, by accident, I breathe some of it in. Something is definitely burning near us, and I'm guessing it's the vamp.

"Silver," he says, after a moment, sounding real pained and weak. "On my ankles."

He doesn't need to expand anymore on it for me to figure it out just what he wanted from me; I feel out his legs and the bottom of his trousers, and delve my hands in underneath, my fingertips instantly meeting cold, hairy skin and something metallic. Using my fingernails, I manage to get a decent hold on the long thread of silver, and I work my fingers to the bone in pulling it off. It isn't without difficultly; The silver sticks to him like a second skin, almost.

He swears when I manage to yank it off, with savagery. _Vampires and swearing..._

"Oh, that looks like it hurts real bad," I mutter sadly, evaluating him. The sores look real deep, engrained into his white flesh.

"Well, yes. It does," the vampire remarks stiffly.

"Here, I can probably get your hands free," I offer, crouching over him.

"No," he snaps, pushing himself away from me with the soles of his shoes. He backs right up into a tree, huffing and groaning. "I am entirely capable of doing that myself, and besides, you are Eric's human. If he found out you were assisting a very hungry vampire, then I..." He doesn't go on with his sentence, which is unfortunate, because I'm sort of hanging on to hear what he was going to say. I caught him shiver at whatever it was Eric might have possibly done to him, though.

So, apparently vampires were just as afraid of Eric Northman; That fear wasn't only displayed by human's. But what's the worst Eric would possibly do to a vampire like him- raise his voice and yell? Big deal. _Been there, seen all that. Almost brought the T-shirt._

This vampire is so stubborn that when I reach out to attempt to remove the silver wrapping around his wrists, he moves his arms up to cradle them to his chest. Well, at least he let me remove the silver binding his ankles together. Curiously, I pull up his pant legs around his ankles, checking the spot again. His breathing gets even louder at that, like he feels I'm invading his body or something ridiculous. I almost gasp. Sure enough, his skin is magically healed; By looking at them, you wouldn't have ever assumed he was a vampire frying with silver at the ankles minutes ago. Then again, his legs are so albino white and hairy, it's a bit hard to see his skin properly.

"So, silver is a weakness to you vampire's, huh?" I ask, greatly intrigued for some reason. Eric never told me that.

"Yes." The vampire doesn't look too thrilled having to reveal that.

"So, just say I wore a necklace that's sterling silver, would it ward a vampire away from sucking my neck?"

His eyes widen to the point his whites overpower his pupils. "Yes."

"Great." I slap my knee with a hand loudly, bursting with silent joy. At least, I know how to keep Eric from my neck now, though... it hardly seems blood that he wants. He wants my body, I'm guessing. "I'll have to remember to wear my necklace when he comes over tomorrow evening..." I say, mostly to myself. Pity the vampire assumed otherwise.

"Eric is old. One sip is more than enough for him."

"One sip is a sip too much." I find myself angry for some reason. "He may want to have sex with me, but my blood is one thing that he is not getting anytime soon."

"Well, you can have my blood?" he goes on unexpectedly, after a moment. He sure sounded as if he was hoping I would. "The blood that they were going to collect? Our blood is meant to heighten your libido, and your-"

"- That is disgusting, Mister," I tell him, wildly insulted. "I wouldn't ever touch a vampire's blood. And the state of my libido is just fine, thank you."

"Then may I have some of yours?"

"_No_, you can't!"

"You smell different," he says, in a very hungry way. "What are you?" Now he is starting to sound like Eric, going on about that 'You're not as human as you smell' stuff, and all that jazz.

"I'm Sookie Stackhouse, and I'm betting you already know I'm a waitress, considering I served you tonight."

"Oh, yes." A deep, and thoughtful pause. "And you are Eric's."

"Yes, I am Eric's," I snap, getting to my feet. "Eric wants to get inside my panties, so... suddenly, that means I'm his. Sure, whatever."

"How about some of your blood, so that I can heal faster?"

"I said no!"

"Oh." The vampire sounds distinctively upset. "Well, it was worth a try." He must want a taste of my blood real badly then. All the more reason to get the hell away from him, before he tried his luck and got it by force.

"What's your name?" I ask, realizing I still don't know it.

"Bill," he says.

"Bill?" I laugh out loudly incredulously. "What's with all the normal names? Not once have I met a vampire called Lestat, or Dracula! Eric! Bill! What's with the normal human names?"

"We are not much different than you," he says quickly. "And I live next door to you. I am William Compton." Oh, well crap. I never knew this was the very same vampire neighbour we apparently had next door. I feel my heart twist in uneasiness. This was the very same vampire Eric had so kindly flipped the bird at, too.

I feel a sudden urge to apologize, for some reason. "I'm real sorry for that night Eric came over and stuck his middle finger up at you," I tell him honestly. "He's... strange like that."

The vampire, Bill, huffs out a shaky laugh. "What you did not see, was that I was giving it to him, just as hard." Oh. No wonder then.

"Well, I've got to be getting back into work," I tell him, a bit sadly. "You sure you'll be alright with that silver?"

"I'll be just fine. Thank you."

"Alright. See ya." I turn to leave, dusting off my shorts. He calls out to me, and I turn to look into the general direction of where his voice came from in the dark.

"May I call on you sometime?"

"Call on me?" I whisper, confused. "By phone, you mean?"

"No, by..." And then he stops abruptly, probably realizing how fruitless explaining would be. "Never mind."

I give him a wave, which no doubt, he could see.

All in all, I learned a few things tonight. One, that maybe I was crazy. Two, that vampire's didn't like silver. And three, that just maybe my vampire next door neighbor wasn't as bad as Eric thought. I just couldn't understand why Eric expressed so much hatred towards him; He seemed just fine, by my standards.

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**I know you probably won't like Bill, and don't worry. It'll go down differently. Hope you won't hate me for introducing him into the story? Just a warning in advance, as I feel it's necessary while writing chapter eleven (I'm halfway through it now), there will contain a scene of violence mainly directed at Bill, by both Sookie and Eric. So, if you like him, I'm sorry!**


	11. Creepy Feelings

**_I own nothing to do with True Blood, but that doesn't really have to be said LOL._**

**_Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews, and response to this story. I'm so humbled, and it really makes my day. It sincerely surprises me, because I feel like my writing is terrible, so thank you all, for being so sweet, and awesome, and lovely. Hoping you enjoy this one!_**

_**JUST A WARNING: Halfway down the story is some violence. This was a hard one to write, and I hope it isn't a disappointment. Then again, I find every chapter a challenge lol, hope it makes you happy, or is to your liking.**_

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_**Chapter Eleven**_

I don't think much of helping that vampire, Bill, out. It was just something done out of impulse, out of concern. According to him, however, it's something far more ground-breaking.

When I get to work next evening, I'm surprised to find him sitting in the same area of the bar he was the night before. If he was any smart, he wouldn't have bothered returning. I certainly wouldn't have, if something life-threatening to me had happened in a place.

It's obvious he is waiting to speak to me personally. When Arlene Fowler goes over to take his order, he declines with a swift jerk of his head, and gesticulates for my assistance instead. Arlene scampers over to me, startled by the reaction she's gotten out of him. When she tells me what he said, it seems he was very insistent on talking to me.

Honestly, I was cursing myself and my recklessness. Then again, I knew in my heart, that it was a good, decent act out of the kindness and pity in my heart. I like to think many would have done the exact the same thing had the chance arisen to help out another in need. I can't say I regretted my decision, because his life was at stake and you can never regret an action if it spares the life of another.

It has already been something forgotten and done and dusted in my eyes. Apparently, to him, however, it was something he felt excessively grateful for. Clearly, he feels he owes me something. More even something as extreme as his life. A simple sentiment of gratitude would have been more than enough for me, though.

I tighten my ponytail and make for certain I look presentable, before making my way over to him. I have my tight-lipped smile strategically in place.

"Hey, there. Do you want another glass of water, like last night? We still don't have any of those True Blood's available for you. Sorry about that."

He gives me a good looking-over with his eyes before settling his elbows on the table and leaning closer to me on an angle, and I feel my stiff smile threatening to wane against my lips. I get odd sensations within; as though my entire insides have been doused with ice cold water, freezing me to the bone. "Actually, I was hoping you would be available after you finish with your job this evening?"

He's really picked the worst time imaginable. "Sorry, actually, I got to be getting straight on home after this," I inform him, aiming to sound as truthfully apologetic as I can. "I got a date tonight." Date isn't really the right term to use, but he cannot possibly know that.

"Oh, I see." Disappointment floods over his pasty-white features. "With Eric?" he guesses, with an undercurrent in his voice I don't quite catch.

"Yes, actually."

"That is truly a shame." He purses his lips together, and peers down at his hands. "It would only take a few minutes of your time. I would only like to express my sincerest thanks to you, for what you did so generously for me last evening." His low voice cracks and trembles with profound emotion. Though disarming, it's flattering, really.

I wave it all away with a hand, and a forced laugh. "Say no more. You don't have to thank me for anything. What else could I do, really? I couldn't let you get hurt, especially not by two people as scummy as the Rats."

"I am indebted to you," he insists, fiercely strong on that.

"You're not, really," I disagree vehemently. It's obvious he isn't going to take that as an answer. He's obviously one stubborn and insistent vamp.

"But I am. I truly, truly am. May I see you, after your work?"

I'm too polite to argue on it, so I simply nod. It's not exactly a truth, though; Soon as my shift ends, I want to get home as soon as possible. It's not that I'm so eager to escape him, it's just that I really did have important plans tonight; Eric was meant to be coming over, and I wanted to get dressed all nice and decent for him, when he did.

Obviously, I was not going to get my way, though...

When my shift ends, and the vampire, Bill, has mysteriously cleared out of Merlotte's, I make sure to have a good examination into my surroundings before making my way through the parking lot to where my car is parked. I guess maybe, deep down inside, I _was_ going out of my way to avoid him. One vampire in my life seems a pretty good deal, and Eric was a complicated and demanding vampire enough. I don't feel I have much room in my life for more, at the moment, truth be told. I crane my neck outside the entrance of Merlotte's, looking from left to right, to make certain the coast is clear. The relief hits me tenfold. No vampire in sight. Nobody, but myself.

Grabbing my keys out of my purse in advance to get myself prepared, I waste no time in jogging to the driver's side of my car. Just as I'm getting too content with unlocking the door, without preamble whatsoever, the vampire appears at my side to the left of me. Luckily, he is so white that I can make him out in the dark, but he startles me dangerously to the point where I almost drop my keys. Fortunately, I clutch tightly onto them before they slip out between my fingers.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I laugh, clutching my chest with my free hand. I hate how weak and frail I sound. I just have a bad feeling, and when you get bad feelings, they're sort of impossible to ignore. "You just gave me a bit of a fright! I never expected you to be out here, waiting for me!" _Like a creepy stalker,_ I add mentally. Maybe it's a harsh judgment to make, but there isn't any other nicer way to put it.

He has the heart to sound embarrassed. "Forgive me," he says, with a short laugh, sounding equally as spooked himself. "I did not mean to alarm you."

I feel my eyebrows arch doubtfully, because something tells me alarming me was exactly what this vampire had intended to do, otherwise he may have made himself known more loudly to me. It was only considerate that he should.

"Bill, right now isn't exactly the right time for this. I've got to be getting home. No doubt, Eric's probably already arrived and is waiting on me to get home." I'm hoping he'll get the polite hint I'm sending- loud and clear. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to.

"I have only just returned to Bon Temps, after forty years," he tells me conversationally. "I do not have many friends, or family residing here."

Is that what he's asking me? To be something similar as a friend to him?

I find myself wishing I had some of Eric's bad ways engrained inside of me. If I was anything like him, I could have easily said, "I don't want to talk. Fudge off!" And then I'd drive away in a huff. Sadly, I'm not like Eric in that regard. I don't like hurting people, or insulting them, even though I've probably done that to Eric more times than I can possibly count.

"Bill, if you're asking me to be your friend, then I would love to be a friend to you. But as for now, I've got to go home. I can't stay here talking to you. I'm real sorry, but... like I said, I've got places I need to be right now." If that isn't straightforward enough to get the message well and truly across, then I don't know what is.

"I am not sure I am buying this in totality," he says, confusing me. What isn't he buying? That I agree to be his friend, or what?

"I beg your pardon?" I can feel my composure- and, not to mention my politeness in tone- slipping.

"That you... are Eric's." He takes a step closer towards my side, and, without really wanting to, I back up into my car nervously. "It is uncharacteristic of Eric to have a human as his own. Why would you be any different, unless he knows, and he is purposefully trying to keep you away?"

He's talking in tongues for all the confusion it rouses out of me. Keep me away from what? Crazy vampire.

"Listen, Bill," I try again feebly. "I need to be getting home now. Maybe we can discuss this another night?" _Please, oh please. Back off, buddy._

"I simply do not understand," he goes on, and I can feel him assessing me in the dark. It's unnerving, and I feel my adrenaline racing. My teeth gnash together, in a very familiar way I recognize. It's my body's way of preparing me to go into defence mode, and I'm nearing breaking point. "Eric despises humans. They are little more than a mockery to him. Why are you any different?"

"I don't quite understand what you're talking about." And it's true. I haven't the slightest idea what he's going on about. Well, in some ways, I do. I know Eric holds human's in contempt, because they were responsible for murdering his dad, Godric. But why is this Bill acting so surprised? "What are you talking about?"

"He must know." I can't even tell if he is talking to me or not. If he's talking to me, nothing is comprehensible to me. It's going past my brain, I'm clueless. "He must know what you truly are." He moves closer until he brushes up against me by the car door. He puts his hands on either side of me, and I fight with all my might against the whimper that rises in my throat over the unexpectedness of his actions.

Oh, Jesus Christ. And, here I was, thinking Eric was a pretty bad excuse for a vampire... Eric's not like this one at all. Sure, he loves to invade my personal space, from time to time, but that's different, because I almost kind of... like his invasions.

He places his hands on either side of my head, raising my head so I have to look him directly in the eyes. It's a bit too dark, but I manage to see the rounds of them glistening.

"What are you? You would make it that much easier if you told me."

Instantly, I know what he is trying to do. He is trying to glamour me, maybe even to reveal what I am. Little does he know, it doesn't work on me, something I mightn't ever understand. And, even if it had, I hardly think he would get any helpful answers out of me. I don't know what I am, or why people- namely vampire's- tended to continuously ask that of me.

Of course... _nothing_ happens.

I just stand there, trying to appear as still and silent as possible. But then, I wonder if I should pretend, pretend like I can be glamoured. Will it make much difference to him? Will he know I was only pretending it did have an effect on me? Then again, I did not know how human's were meant to react, while being underneath a vampire's glamour spell. Was I meant to blab out what I am to him? Or was I meant to act strange, as though I'm underneath a hypnotist's spell, and do something outrageous and out-there? I don't know what, so I simply try to just be as still as possible, probably appearing an idiot while I'm at.

"Look, Mister," I snap, losing my thin patience. He's well and truly ticked me off. "I need to get home, so can you please back off my personal space and quit trying to do your glamour thing! It doesn't work on me, all right? So, back off!"

He laughs breathlessly in shock, and my hand tightens instinctively over my car keys. I'm getting ready to make my move. His hands are still wrapped around my head, and I can just feel him eyeballing me curiously. _What am I, an animal at a zoo?_

"This is most extraordinary," he breathes in wonder. "Usually, most human's are not immune to our influence. And your blood... it smells far more different, than the ordinary." He gets a distinctive hungry ache in his tone, and I hear his fangs run out with that peculiar clicking sound I've come to recognize. At least, I have that sound as a warning... "Has Eric tasted you? Does he have any inkling of just how different you are?"

Reaching down, he gently runs the back of his icy knuckles down the base of my throat, well and truly invading my comfort-zone. I know he's getting ready to bite me, I just know it.

"Eric won't like this," I remind him strongly. "Eric's a very dangerous vampire. If he found out about this, about you attempting to taste me, or whatever the hell you're doing... then he might do something to you. So, please. Don't do anything you might regret. I'm _Eric's_, after all."

Until this evening, I never really felt comfortable with that. I didn't much understand it; Why a vampire would label another human being as their possession. Right now, however, I thanked the heavens that I was Eric's. If he was a feared, well-known vampire that both human's and vampire's equally were wary of, it seemed being his wasn't so bad after all.

"Oh, but if you were Eric's, then why has he not tasted you for himself?" _Maybe because I have standards, and I don't want any vampire sinking his fangs into me. At least, not until the relationship stage, anyhow... _"You have no markings. I cannot smell his blood within you." Isn't the declaration that we are each other's enough?

I feel him lean in to me, and his nose brushes against the curve of my neck.

Oh, to hell. I'm done with this crap. I will not just stand there and let myself get bitten the shit out of. Not for anybody. Hell no.

Since he's so close to me, I bring up my knee with as much force as I possibly can, and drive it hard into the centre of his groin. He stumbles back from me, and the pained and shocked moan he gives out is almost heavenly.

This is pretty action-fuelled stuff for a boring barmaid. I manage to hold my own against this vampire, surprisingly.

"I warned you to get the hell away from me," I snarl at him crazily, through my teeth, as he grasps himself between his legs and grumbles to himself loudly. "Now don't you ever try coming near me again!" At that, I open the door of my car forcefully, and swing myself inside. I slam it shut, just in the nick of time, when he goes all murderous on me. He slams a hand down on the window, trying to get to me.

I get the car working, stomp my foot on the accelerator, and get the heck out of there, trembling wildly in the car seat all the while. My hands begin to ache from clinging onto the steering wheel so tight, and hot tears well up in my eyes. What a lunatic, that Bill turned out to be; Asking me incessantly what I am when I have no damn clue is one thing, but getting his fangs out ready to taste me... well,_ damn_.

I drive home with mild detachment, vaguely unaware of my surroundings.

Soon as I barge into the house, Gran is instantly cautious of me, as though she is highly attuned to my mood. She can clearly tell I'm not in the greatest of moods; She's very concise with her questions tonight. I forget that Eric was meant to come over tonight, with his sword, at least momentarily on the heart-pumping ride home, until I look her over very suspiciously; Tonight, she looks very much unlike herself.

She's put on lipstick- which she usually doesn't do, unless she's going out of the house for some rare and special occasion. She's also wearing the pearl earrings my late Grandfather gave her as a gift when they started dating as two young sweethearts over forty years ago. Obviously, she was very much looking forward to seeing Eric tonight. I can't say I'm in the same boat; For some unexplainable reason, I just wanted to get an early night and have a good, deep cry over what happened tonight. I almost feel like throwing in the towel early, and declaring: _No more vampires for me. I can't deal with it. _

Only, for some reason, I find I like Eric far too much to ever do that. I really want to get to know him, since after all, I don't know much. I can't take much of Gran's suspicious and concerned looks, so I have no choice but to make myself busy. Instead, I head straight outside, hardly in the mood to offer her some reassurance.

I grab the long broom she always has on the porch by the railing, and start sweeping around, almost frantically. It certainly does wonders in easing my mind after the terror I've just endured.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the tall, looming silhouette of someone crossing mysteriously into the yard from in the direction of the Compton residence. The dark form moves towards me with steady, fierce movements. It's Mr. Compton, I just know it. He's returned for pay-back, I can just tell.

I tighten my hands over the handle of the broom, preparing for another fight against him.

"How _many_ times will I have to tell you?" I shout at him, through my teeth uneasily. "You are _never_, ever gonna be getting a taste of me, Mister! _Please_, give it up!"

He continues walking towards the porch unapologetically. Just as he reaches the steps, the lights on the porch hit and illuminate his face. _Whoops._ The fear and dread leaves my body, almost instantly.

It's only Eric. _Oh, what relief._

He steps into the light, making himself fully known to me, finally. I'm definitely way too jumpy and spooked-out tonight, but surely it's with good reason.

His clothes blend into the dark easily; He's wearing an unzipped leather jacket tonight, with a white V-neck shirt and those dark jeans, and his combat boots. He looks about ready to bite... literally. His fangs are out.

Instantly, at the sight of him, my mind just decides to... go there. To my crazy dream last night; To this vampire naked, feeding me eye-balls... that he cut out for me personally himself. It's hard to look him directly in the eye, after that. All I can seem to see, is him popping that eye-ball into his mouth, and moaning and groaning to make it known how palatable the taste was to him... "Fucking delicious." Does he even eat eye-balls in real life, as a delicacy? Ugh. Or is it just those rumours I've heard of him around the grape-vine, of how he bites off nipples (which for a fact, he himself said wasn't true) that contributed to the crazy dream?

Eric doesn't look as poorly complected as the vampire Bill. I think maybe fair hair suits vampire's more, rather than dark hair; which makes their undead state look far more notable and sickening. I don't get those funny feelings bubbling away in my system, being in Eric's company either, as I did tonight, with Bill. I get no disconcerting prickly feelings itching at my skin while being around him. No, mainly it's... nerves at potentially saying or doing the wrong thing in front of him. The fear of embarrassing myself in front of him. The awkwardness. All in all, I feel like a girl with a ridiculous school-girl crush. That's solely it. No creepy feelings around him.

"Oh hey, Eric," I call and wave at him at an awkwardly close distance.

He doesn't reply or wave back, but I'm not exactly expecting him to anyhow. He strides up the steps briskly, and just by the way he walks, I can tell he's in one of his grumpy moods. _No shock there._

I turn deliberately and go about sweeping the porch, hiding my face from him. "I'm in a stinking rotten mood," I warn him. "So I'm sorry if I get angry at you. Just warning you in advance."

"Speak for yourself," he mutters from behind me stiffly. Why doesn't that surprise me that he's pissed off as well? "I'm already fucking angry with you, and you haven't even said 'Good Evening' yet." _Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that._ He's angry with me? He's shitty because of me? I can't remember doing anything to make him feel that way.

_Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the coffin..._

"You're angry with me?" I ask, stunned. I whirl around to look at him, bringing the broom with me. He's standing way closer to me than I anticipated; I accidently step on the tip of his shoes. He has his sword with him, like he promised, for my Grandmother. I take a few steps back to put a considerable amount of distance between us, just to be on the safe side; A vampire looking murderous, while holding an ancient sword... it wasn't exactly the most harmless look in the world. "What did I do to you? If _anything_, I should be angry with_ you_! _You're_ the _one_ that went into _my_ bedroom, and invaded _my_ goddamn privacy..."

"You're lucky you're not dead."

I feel the blood drain from my face. Shit, he knows_ already_? He knows about the vampire, Bill, tonight? How can he know that, though?

He grabs me by one of my hands and shakes it gently, sending my arm flopping around between us. It's a little hard to concentrate properly on what he's trying to say to me, when one of my limbs are being sent jerking around, almost as if I'm experiencing some intense muscle spasm.

"That psycho last night would have stabbed the shit out of you if I hadn't intervened in time the way I had, and made him urinate all over himself." Oh, great. He doesn't know.

Though, maybe I ought to feel a little scared of how furious he is, I can't deny I'm very pleased and grateful at the discovery that it was, in fact, him right there in flesh last night, and not just my imagination playing odd tricks on me.

"Well, I'm glad you told me that now," I say gently, trying to placate him. "I was starting to think I imagined the whole thing, but then... I heard your filthy talk from behind me, and the way Mack peed all over himself, and I think I realized then that it _was_ you actually there. And I know it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I wasn't thinking. It was a spur of the moment thing, and that vampire sure looked like he needed my help." My stomach twists in uneasiness, and I feel ill with remembering. Yes, and that very same vampire just attempted to attack me tonight, and fang-rape me. I'm definitely far too trusting. I should have thought before I did it. How foolish can I be?

He still looks very angry for some reason, and he takes in another deep breath. He pulls the hand he's gripping and shaking tightly, and puts it around his back, so that I'm left groping leather. Then he steps in closer to me, I hear his sword clatter on the porch loudly as he drops it, and slips his arm tightly around my shoulder blades, yanking me in. I think it's meant to be his own personal version of a hug, and I watch his pale throat move, as he mumbles above me deeply, "Idiot." And maybe I was an idiot? But you couldn't exactly blame a person for wanting to help another out in need, can you?

"I felt compelled to help him, because there was two against him, and only one of him. It was only fair that somebody tried helping him out. I don't expect you to understand that..." And, I've clearly gone and said the wrong thing yet again... _Dumbass_. I feel him stiffen against me, and he loosens his hold on my shoulders.

"You're right; I couldn't possibly fucking understand." He pushes me back gently, and reaches down to retrieve his sword at our feet, raising the blade into the light with an easy swishing motion. He looks deeply insulted, and I hate that I've said the wrong thing. "There was one of you, against two them. I couldn't fucking understand that at all..." He grits his teeth, and glares at me. "No, I can't understand. It's a mystery to me."

"Jesus, I _never_ meant it like that," I whisper helplessly. "I'm sorry. It... it came out the wrong way!"

He compresses his lips together, in a tight and angry line. Before I can even think of a good enough reason not to, I reach up and grab his face tightly, between my hands. He blinks down at me, breathing heavily. Things were just never going the way I wanted them to. No matter how many times I make the attempt of explaining myself, it would never be enough for him. I just can't seem to get the words right.

His eyes dart down at my lips, as he pants it out. "I couldn't possibly fucking comprehend how it feels to be compelled into protecting someone," he whispers at me harshly, but I feel that anger melting by every second that ticks away, while I'm holding his face tightly in my hands.

"I am _very_ thankful for what you did," I tell him, breathing loud. "Please don't think I'm not. I just... have a tendency to say and do some stupid things, without thinking. I don't mean anything by it, I swear. And, you're right; I am a total idiot. Especially when it came to that vampire." My throat tightens, and I feel that same fear as I did when I was around him. The way he brought out his fangs to me, tried to push me up against my car... and the look he sent me afterwards. There had been something foreboding in that look. It chilled me to the bone.

Someone gives out an anxious, little cough and I spring away from him, embarrassed. Despite how awkward it was having Gran there watching us through the fly-screen door, I could tell she was distinctively pleased. Eric appears just as embarrassed as I feel, and his anger softens wholly as he turns to glance at her, throwing a fake smile her way.

"Mrs. Stackhouse." And so, he's all pleasant again. For the time being, anyway...

They go into the living room and get settled in there. Gran inspects his sword eagerly, and fires away with millions of questions that have built up inside over the previous two nights. She's careful not to mention his father's crown, though. She looks like an ecstatic librarian; Her reading glasses make her eyes bug out.

I turn into a restless person with a short attention span.

I go into the kitchen, I go into the lounge room where they're sitting, listen to them for a bit. Then my patience is gone, and I'm whirling off doing the next thing I can to occupy my mind. I just can't seem to sit still; I want to tell Eric about what happened with the vampire, Bill, tonight. But then again, at the same time, I almost don't want to. No doubt, he has enough on his plate to deal with, and I didn't want to seem like a damsel in distress. I have no idea how to keep a vampire away from me- at least, not for good. Since Eric was a vampire, he probably knew plenty of ways. And what of last night? If it hadn't been for him coming to my rescue, I'd probably be in a morgue, with several punctures wounds in my body from Mack's knife. Still busying myself, I go back out onto the porch again. I'm definitely too restless and edgy. I peer over into the direction of Bill's house, feeling a funny feeling prickling my skin when I realize his porch lights are on, illuminating his yard. Jeeze, why did he have to live so close? It sure would have-

Something cold prods into the back of my right shin, alarming me. Eric has returned from my Gran's interrogation, sword in hand, and all. Right now, he's bending down on a lean in the attempt to cut the sock on my ankle with the sharp edge, I'm assuming, judging by the wicked gleam in his eyes. I gulp, and wrap my arms around myself, alarmed. He stares at me questioningly as he lowers it from my leg swiftly. I quickly turn away from the Compton residence, trying to appear nonchalant.

"So, that's your infamous Viking sword, huh?"

"Yes," he breathes unevenly, sounding extremely proud of it. "Yes, it is."

Curiosity kicks in big time.

"And you used that back in the day?" I blurt out. It's hard to believe he still has it lying around. "You actually... fought with it?"

"I did." He raises it into the light between us, and runs his hand over the blade, very slowly and appreciatively. "I fought many battles with it. You can't win a battle and make it out as a survivor, without your sword by your side. In fact, I beheaded over five men with it." He smiles fondly at some memories, probably involving blood and carnage.

_Well, damn. It's certainly a whole lot of information to digest. Eric Northman, the Viking Warrior._

I squirm in uneasiness, as I inspect the blade carefully. "I can't see any dry blood on it?"

He scoffs, and shakes his head at me, like I'm being so damn ridiculous. "I polish it, twice a week." Well, that's pretty fastidious of him. "Keeping the blood on it... it would only decrease the value, and make it more prone to rust. Why would anyone bother keeping something, and neglect it? It's fucking pointless, isn't it?" By the way he says that, it's obvious it's one of his most prized mementos.

"Oh. Well, _excuse me_ for being slow on the uptake." I can't help but get the impression I'm annoying him. But there's no harm done in being curious, right?

"This is fucking weird," he mutters, after a moment. I stare at him, confused. I don't really understand what's weird at all here. "Just talking with a human like this. I usually never talk to human's about this. Not because they don't seem to care, but because they're usually too fucking paralysed with fear to comprehend anything. I've only spoken about my previous life to Pamela, and... when he was around, God-" He stops abruptly, and looks away from me quickly.

I think I know who he's about to say. It doesn't take the brightest scientist to work it out, though. "Godric," I finish for him. He flinches at the name, as if I've said something outrageous. I immediately feel like a cow for mentioning it. "He... converted you a thousand-years ago?" I prompt, hoping to get more out of him. I certainly hope curiosity won't kill the cat, when I'm being so prying the way I am. "How does one get, er... converted into what you are? Do you just... I don't know, bite a human and then, 'wham'? The venom spreads and you're undead?"

"No, it doesn't work like that," he says, irritation spilling out with the words. Yep, I'm definitely being nosy with the personal questions. "You've been watching too many fucking horror movies, or some shit."

"How does it happen then?" I prod stoutly.

He shakes his head. "Usually, you have the blood drained out from you in entirety- unless there is already outside forces doing it for you- and then, the vampire transfers his blood into you. Then, within forty-eight hours you're reborn again."

"Was it that way for you? Did Godric... take out all your blood, then replace yours with his, so that you'd rise up again like this?"

I'm clearly treading on dangerous territory. He grits his teeth together. "No, I was already foregone. I was already teetering on the edge of death, until Godric revealed himself and breathed new, meaningful life into me." His eyes get an odd and distant look in them, as though he is replaying that very moment he was converted into a vampire in his mind. He pats his chest, underneath his rib cage, with a hand. "I was already mortally wounded after a previous battle. You can't win all fucking battles fought, you have to lose somewhere along the line. I got lucky. Godric witnessed my lack of fear when it came to death, and I suppose... he believed I was destined for greater things, than mortality." He frowns, thinking it over deeply. "He admired my skills, as a fighter. I suppose using my sword and fucking are the only things I'm good for." He waves a hand in the air with a dismissive shrug. "Well, I should really say fucking as a former, shouldn't I?"

I study his face carefully, surprised. There is so much more beneath this vampire, than just being grouchy. "You have a lot of love for him, don't you?" I whisper, confident on that. _Hey, anyone could see that, if they had a working set of eyes..._

"Love?" He seems upset by my question. He gazes at me, like I'm something unpleasant stuck to his shoe, with feverish intensity. "I don't even know what the fuck that is. I wouldn't say I have love for him. Fondness, yes. But not love." He looks maddeningly insulted, like I've insinuated something dirty of him. "To love is... weak."

"Oh, come on," I hiss dubiously. "I daresay you've felt love for... something, or someone. It's impossible not to, especially when you've been... alive for as long as you have. Have you ever thought maybe that's why you experience your... er, visions? Because you... love him that much?"

He seems to consider that in silence for several minutes. "I don't think love has anything to do with it."

"Then why do you think he appears to you so much?"

"I don't know," he says slowly, clearly uncomfortable on the topic. "I suppose, our... bond was that strong that he continued to exist in me after his death. His soul, whatever the fuck it is, if he even _had_ one... my conscience, or whatever, whatever was left is so strong, that we've woven together, tangled up and conjoined, as one." He grimaces. "Either that, or I'm just crazy."

"What the hell is crazy?" I ask out loud, wonderingly. "I mean, who is entitled to say what's crazy, and what isn't? I don't think it's really that... crazy. I think it's just ignorance that labels things as such." It occurs to me that I'm babbling, and probably talking nonsense while I'm at it. What am I saying? Hell, if I know... "Can I hold your sword?" I ask hopefully, aiming to distract myself.

I can tell he doesn't want me anywhere near his sword; He looks very against it. He clutches it tightly to his chest, the blade glinting at me in the light above the ceiling on the porch. He looks astoundingly warrior-like, with his familiar grouchy look he wears; A bit like he is getting all hyped up to battle against me. And, if that truly was it, I have no doubts I would lose that battle instantly.

"Geeze, it's not like I'm going to do something to it! I'll be real careful. You can trust me, if you haven't already worked that out by now..."

And still, he eyes me suspiciously. I have to fight back the immature urge I have to stick my tongue out at him.

I bring out my hand expectantly, twiddling my fingers around. "Can I please have a closer look?"

"You be fucking careful," he warns, in a very threatening voice. He eyes me again warily, then swirls the sword around effortlessly in the air between us, so that I can get to the handle. I smile sweetly, and grab it, tightening my fingers around the cool, bumpy, marked steel.

I stride past him, hacking at the long strips of grass growing away in my Granny's yard. It's strangely liberating holding such a lethal weapon; I can almost hear the swish of grass as I chop at it mercilessly. Still, I've got to say I'm real happy with a lawnmowers invention right about now. It'd take me years to cut all her grass off. A chill runs up my spine. How odd. This sword is older than me, and it's been responsible for sawing heads off bodies and causing vicious bloodshed centuries ago.

I hear Eric move up from behind me.

"See, you don't got nothing to worry about," I pant, feeling suddenly exhausted from all my laborious swinging. The Viking sword sure is heavy. "I wouldn't hurt your precious sword." I get to daydreaming that I was swinging the sword at that vampire's head, and I almost tremble visibly. I really have to forget about that.

"It isn't the sword I'm worried about."

I turn to glance at him, making a face. I'm sweating like a hog. "What, then?"

He actually snorts at me, very crassly. "Don't be fucking obtuse."

"I am a skilled Viking maiden," I inform him playfully, raising my chin. "And I am the one with the weapon here. I call the shots, and you will treat me like a proper lady. That means no more filthy language."

His mouth drops open. "A Viking maiden?" He snorts at me again rudely. "Well, aren't we getting ahead of ourselves?" He closes his mouth and tries not to look so amused. "If that is truly the case, then you make the worst fucking maiden, if I ever saw one. Especially in that outfit, anyhow. We did not wear skimpy shorts, nor did we wear fucking shirts with the 'Merlotte's' emblem embroidered on it, for that matter..."

I roll my eyes. "Ha-ha."

"Yeah, I'm pretty fucking hysterical," he retorts, deadpan.

I pretend to take a swing at him from where he is standing. He backs up a few steps unhappily, which pleasures me to no end.

"Watch it," he warns sullenly. "You're in a particularly shitty mood this evening," he observes confidently. "You look even shittier than me, and I'm shitty all the time."

"I guess I am." I try to smile at him apologetically, only my face muscles don't work with me. I'm too twitchy. "I guess I'm not in the mood for visitors tonight. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" he asks, confused. He sounds as if he actually cares. How... nice of him. And not to mention, totally unexpected.

"Tell me more about that vampire Bill," I ask him, handing him back his sword carefully. He stares down at me, perplexed.

"What about him?"

"I don't know...something isn't right. He was at the bar tonight, waiting for me when I finished work... And about what I did yesterday, when I tried to help him with the silver, and you scared away the Rats... he was saying he was indebted to me, and he was insisting he owed me something. I guess that something was to bite me, because he sure looked like he wanted to!"

He takes in a deep breath, trying to reign that temper of his in. I can see the anger building in his eyes, though. They reflect wildly and coldly, in the light. "Hold on a second. This vampire attempted to put his fucking fangs into you?"

"Well, yes."

"Was it Stan?" he throws at me. "Stan Baker?"

"Stan Parker?" I ask, in bewilderment. "Who the hell is he?"

"Baker," he corrects readily. "Stan Baker. He's a double-crosser. The biggest prick ever. He probably did that in the attempt to get back at me."

"Well, no. I don't even know who that is!"

"Russell Edgington?"

_What? Are these names meant to be familiar to me?_ "Um. Who?"

"There is over one hundred and sixty-eight vampires documented as living in the state of Louisiana. If you want this guessing-game to continue, we'll be here all night, and honestly, I can't be fucked. Why don't you just say who it was, loud and clear?" Another misunderstanding shared between us, obviously...

"I just did. Why else would I bring this Bill up into conversation?" I take in a deep breath, and let it all out. "My supposed vampire next door neighbor is the one that attempted to bite me tonight."

"Wait. Bill Compton?"

"Yes, it was him, and he did." Even hearing the name out loud, it gives me the shivers. I just now got a very bad feeling about that vampire, a feeling that wouldn't seem to go away. "He got his fangs out, and everything. And then, when he bent down to go for it, I kneed him in the groin. He pretended it hurt him, and so it presented me enough time to get inside my car and drive off, thank goodness. But you weren't there; You didn't see the way he looked at me, after I kneed him in the groin."

"How'd he look, then?"

I hold my hands out in front of me, yanking my sleeves down to my wrists, purposefully keeping my eyes to myself. It's easier than having to look at him. "He gave me the most scariest, mean look, and though, I couldn't read his thoughts, I know what that look means...He even tried to throw himself at my car!"

"He knew you were my human?"

"He definitely did, as much as I don't like being called that." I shrug, feeling my stomach knot in uneasiness. "He acknowledged that I was yours, like... three or so times, and yet, he still kept on asking for a bit of my blood. He even offered for me to take his. It was... weird."

"And he did not bite you? You're certain of that?"

"Of course, I'm sure of it. I mean, I imagine being bitten is really painful, and I never felt anything. That's how I'm sure."

"Show me your neck," he urges firmly.

"I just want to forget all about it, honestly. Couldn't you just take my word for it that he didn't? I would know, if he had. And I know he didn't."

I guess he was real keen on looking, anyway, and I suppose it was better to be safe than sorry. He plucks my hair off my shoulders carefully, and pushes it behind my back out-of-the-way. Then he sets his thumb gently underneath my chin, turning my head this way and that way to inspect all areas of my neck very thoroughly. It was a bit... strange, and I heard his fangs slide out, while he did it.

"Now show me your arms."

I feel like I'm a patient being examined by a vampire doctor. I pull the sleeves of my cardigan up to my elbows, turning my arms and wrists around. I'm not frightened of what he'll see, because there wasn't any bites on me whatsoever- as far as I could tell, anyway.

"Now pull down your shorts," he directs me quietly next, definitely pushing his luck. He stares at me expectantly, waiting.

I laugh uneasily, pulling my sleeves down again. "Oh, come on. I'm not going to fall for that!"

"Fall for what?" he asks innocently. "Most vampires enjoy the femoral artery."

"Do you enjoy it?" I ask, mostly teasing.

"Well, the common carotid artery is pretty fucking cliché for vampires nowadays, if you ask me."

It takes me a belated moment to realize we're talking about arteries, of all things. Like I'd know anything about that... I'm not a vampire after all. I wouldn't know a single damn thing about the difference between femoral arteries and the carotid artery.

"Why are we even talking about this?" I ask, grossed-out.

"I have no fucking idea. _You_ were asking."

"Well, can I ask something else of you? And you can say no, straight-up. It's horrible of me on all levels, but... I'm not strong enough to do it myself, and you'll probably know what to do about it."

"Horrible? Horrible is good. I like horrible."

"Probably not in this situation. Since you're a... vampire and all, you'd probably know how to deal with it way better than I would." I hesitate, and surprisingly, he waits on me in patience. I clearly wasn't expecting that. I'm almost expecting him to yell it out of me, or something. "I don't think I like this vampire, Bill. I just... I get this strange feeling..." I toss my head, unsure of how to say it. It probably wouldn't make any sense on him anyhow. "And tonight, when he... brought out his fangs, and... I'm not actually sure whether he was trying to bite me or not... but something tells me he won't go away. Can you do something about that, or am I asking way too much?"

He's silent for a very long, pensive moment, rubbing his chin and around his bottom lip with his forefinger. And then, he says resolutely, "Fuck it. Just tell me when."

His willing compliance shocks me; I never assumed it would be that easy to ask such a thing of him, but surprisingly, it was.

I hesitate, almost frightened to say it. "Is now a good enough time for you, or is it a little too sudden?"

"Now?" he repeats, shocked. He clearly wasn't expecting it.

"Well, yes," I murmur, feeling my eyebrows dip in trepidation. "I feel like we ought to be proactive, and deal with this as soon as possible. I don't want any repercussions of him attempting to bite me, after all."

Just when I'm starting to panic that I'm asking too much of him, he delves a hand into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, bringing out his phone. Without looking at me, he flips it open, dials, and waits, tensed. Then I hear the faint ringing tone stop, and relief floods his face. "Pam, it's me."

I fight to roll my eyes. He's calling his lady friend, Pam. Of course. Then again, I recall the conversation this Pam lady and I shared in Fangtasia days, and days ago, on how he made her what she is; She's practically his daughter. Who should I be so surprised? I'm not an expert on vampires, but I'm assuming they take as much pride in family as we do. Vampire's and human's can be similar in some ways, I guess.

There is a loud burst of noise on the other end. Eric pulls the phone away from his ear a fraction, pinches the bridge of his nose, and gives me a very humorous look, that says, _I'm tired of all this bull-crap._ I mightn't be able to read vampire's minds, but I can sure work out their facial expressions, from time-to-time, and what his tells me, is that he isn't very happy by whatever Pam has revealed to him.

"What do you mean eighty fucking bucks has gone missing, Pam? How is that possible?" More frantic talking on the other line. "Well, Pam, only you and Longshadow are responsible for managing the till, and guarding all fucking profits. Can't you use some common-sense and work it out for yourself, instead of loading this shit onto me? I am away from the office, if you haven't fucking noticed already. Why the fuck else would the door be locked if I was in there?" He waits and takes in a deep breath as Pam squabbles something to him. "Yes, Pam. I am with the human."

A pause. He glances at me quickly.

"Pam, now's not the fucking time. I just called to ask something of you. Do you still have any of that shit you brought off E-Bay last week? You know, the, uh... silver shit?" His face changes and relaxes almost immediately at her reply. "Great. I'll drop by in five minutes. Have it all ready for me, will you? Perky and I are going to make a late-night call into the Compton residence." He hangs up on her and slams his cell shut.

I raise my eyebrows at him, questioning him silently for an explanation into something I'm a bit afraid to hear. What the hell has he gone and done in calling his daughter? I can't help but assume the worst.

He massages his forehead, looking a bit overwhelmed underneath my probing look, and lets out a whoosh of air through his teeth.

"Um, well?" I prompt nervously. "Why'd you go calling your daughter?"

"Don't go calling Pamela my daughter," he sighs underneath his breath, wincing in disgust. "She's fucking older than me in human years. I don't like it."

"Oh, right. Sorry," I mumble, not entirely being sincere.

"I need to head back into Shreveport to collect a few things we'll be requiring," he goes on quietly. "I'll be back roughly in fifteen minutes. Pamela ordered a few things off E-Bay months ago, that at the time anyway... I thought would amount to nothing more than useless shit. But turns out I'm wrong." He doesn't look at me as he speaks. He keeps his eyes on the ground. Without warning, he reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder, rubbing his thumb and forefinger into the strands of my hair hanging over my shoulder, like he's absently indulging in the texture of it, or something odd like that. "Whatever you do, do not go over to Compton's house without me. We do this together, or else not at all."

I give him a rude look- one that he fails to see, since he is too preoccupied with having a staring contest with the tip of his shoes.

"Wait here until I return. _Do_ you understand?"

I take in a deep breath, before answering vehemently, "Look, I know I was an idiot last night, but I'm not going to be an idiot again. I'll wait for you, all right, Mister?"

"I'm holding you to that. Because, if I get back, and you're nowhere to be seen, I will-"

Tentatively, I lean up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his before he can even so much as get another word out. He flinches in shock against my mouth, and I'm pretty astounded by my forwardness myself. I'm usually not the type of girl who makes the first move, but hey... it effectively shuts him up pretty decently. I've never been the one to make the first move in kissing him, in all the times we've done it. I have to say, it feels pretty good and empowering. I'm definitely going to have to do it more often.

"I guess that's solved then," he says gruffly, pulling away and recovering himself. He turns and gives me a confounded look, just like I've swatted him over the head brutally with a frying pan seconds ago.

"Sorry about that," I say breathlessly. "I... I tripped. That's all that was."

I feel the hormones gushing inside of me, tingling away, as I watch him tread down the steps with his sword, breathing deeply. I close my eyes, for roughly around five seconds, trying to get a hold of myself. I open them, then... just like that, he's gone. Vampire quick exits. Gotta love it.

* * *

I go into the bathroom, brush my teeth, and comb my hair for the occasion.

Really, I'm not doing it for vanity purposes; It isn't because I want to look nice for Eric while we do this, I think it just incites me and gets me more readily into the right frame of mind, to do something like this. Not in a hundred years would I ever dream I would be instigating another vampire into harming another, but I guess it was something I felt needed to be urgently done, for my own well-being. And Eric, well, he seemed none the merrier to do this for me. He didn't appear as if he believed it was a horrible and cruel request of me to be asking from him; He just took it on-board almost immediately, with no qualms whatsoever.

Stuck in a ridiculous dilemma, it dawns onto me that I haven't the slightest clue what to wear for this. I mean, what outfit is suitable to wear whilst going out on a silly vampire-intimidation scheme? Who the hell knows what to wear?

Wearing something simple, comfy, and incognito seems the way to go, though; I slip into a comfy pair of jeans, and black woollen jumper, with my Nike trainers I wear for work. Something tells me it's better not to wear my Merlotte's uniform while doing this; No, wearing my uniform seems kind of inappropriate and, if there so-happens to be any bloodshed- as unlikely as it would be- I don't exactly want to get blood splatters on my uniform. At least I'm thinking ahead, and taking every cautionary measure I can.

I even put on the sterling silver necklace Gran got me for my sixteen birthday, as a gift, just in case for those unexpected times a vampire might catch you unprepared and attempt to sink his fangs into your neck, out of anger. I contemplate myself in the bathroom mirror after I've finished dressing myself, and an uneasy laugh gets caught in my throat. I look ridiculous, and it's so evident I don't know what the heck I'm doing. It'll have to do for now, though. I frown as I peer down at my trusty, old work shoes.

Should I lose them, in favour for heels? Men find women sexier in high heels, right? I could try for a femme fatale look, but then again, I don't exactly want to be stumbling around in impractical shoes. I hardly think Eric would be impressed by that and besides, he wanted to have sex with me, in spite of the way I dressed myself. It wasn't exactly my skimpy dress-sense that intrigued him.

When I get outside, I'm mildly relieved to find Eric wearing the same clothes as he was before. His brows quirk an inch and his forehead creases, as he turns to give me a funny look, one that makes my stomach clench. Yeah, maybe changing my clothes for the occasion was a bit too much? After all, I didn't exactly want to appear over-eager for something as unpleasant and wrong as what we were both about to commit.

"Is this all for me?" he asks, with mock humbleness.

I ignore that comment, feeling the heat burn my face over it, and work my shaky hands into use. What a way to embarrass a girl. Jesus.

"I brought this with me, just in case." I dig through the back pocket of my jeans and bring out the handgun that belonged to my Grandmother's husband that I found while sneaking through Gran's bedroom closet. My late Grandfather, Earl, I couldn't remember much of, since he died when I was around three or four years old. But apparently, he had loved hunting and collecting old weapons. It's ironic how useful a handgun could be to me now. I was being very smart and practical tonight.

Eric laughs and tosses his head in astonishment. I've impressed him with my prudent, quick-thinking, and that makes me feel very incredibly proud of myself, for some reason. Maybe I was growing into a natural in working out how to defend myself?

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters underneath his breath. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?" He looks me over questioningly. "Is that thing actually loaded?"

I scoff, and laugh. "What do you think? Why else would I bring it if it wasn't?"

He extends his hand out to me, looking all serious and business-like. "Give it to me," he tells me gravely.

I stare him down, mistrusting. "Now why on earth would I do that?" I ask, slowly and suspiciously. Refusing to answer me, he goes to snatch it out of my hand. Luckily, I move my hand out of his range, just in the nick of time. His lips press together into a thin line in annoyance. "Look; if you want a handgun, you can damn well go and get your own! This one is mine! And besides, what do you need a handgun for? Seriously, I mean... you've got your fangs and, no doubt, you're stronger than the both of us combined anyhow, so I don't see why I should-"

"- I'll give it back to you," he interjects quietly. "I just want to see whether it is actually loaded, or not. Don't get your panties in a fucking twist; I'll give it back!"

I consider for a moment, pursing my lips. I still don't understand why he feels it's necessary, though; Who keeps around a handgun and doesn't keep it loaded? It sort of defeats the purpose of having a dangerous weapon in the first place, really. "Fine," I huff out, surrendering after a moment. I hold it out to him, and he takes it, opens the chamber expertly, and spills the remaining rusty bullets into my palm. "What are you doing? We need the bullets, don't we?"

"You put those away," he says firmly, leaving no room for discussion. Glumly, I do. I shove them into the pocket of my jeans, and hold out my hand eagerly for the gun. Much to my disliking, he doesn't hand it back to me. Instead, he tucks it in between the gap of the leather belt holding up his jeans, letting it stick out, like a country boy going on a hunting spree. "When I agreed to this, shooting him wasn't what I had in mind, as far as scare-tactics go. If we shoot him, the bullet will only reject his body, and it won't present him as much long-standing pain, as it does with you human's. I'm thinking more along the lines of something far more prolonged and painful." Clearly, he's thought this through thoroughly. He's a quick, meticulous thinker, especially for someone who's only just had this thing sprung on them no less than twenty minutes ago.

"How, then?"

"Well, Pam brought some Silver-Spray off E-Bay, using my credit card," he explains sullenly. Yep; He's definitely not happy about her using his credit card to buy things from online.

"Silver-Spray?" I've never even heard of it before. "What's that supposed to do?"

"Apparently, it's a rip-off from the pepper-spray you human's use, but Silver-Spray, is directed solely for you human's to use against us vampires when you find yourselves in a sticky spot with one of us." He whips out a bright blue pair of latex gloves from the back pocket of his jeans. He puts them on, grinning excitedly. At least one of us was feeling enthusiastic about doing something terrible to another person; I certainly wasn't. "It's been tested on a few vampire's like guinea pigs, and apparently, the after-burn stings for forty-eight fucking hours! Don't you think forty-eight hours is enough hell for a vampire to endure to truly get the message across?"

I think it through for a minute. I get those guilty feelings stirring up inside of me all over again. I know it's incredibly wrong of us to be doing this, but I wanted that vampire away for good. "Uh-huh," I agree after a moment's worth of consideration, nodding. "Forty-eight hours is definitely good."

"Let's get this fucking thing moving, shall we?" he asks, ceremoniously slapping the latex gloves against his wrists loudly. We walk down the porch steps together, Eric in front of me, putting his long legs to quick use. My hand twitches as I stare at my Grandfather's handgun that's hanging on his belt, taunting me. I feel more protected when I'm carrying it myself. "How do you want this?" he asks, turning back to look at me. "Do you want me to do this alone, or do you want to join me?"

"I might as well come with you."

He gives me a doubtful look, before shrugging. "Suit yourself. But this is going to get pretty messy. You can't bail out on it."

"I won't," I assure him, slightly offended. "I asked this of you, and I'd like to at least be there to see it through."

We cross the yard towards the old fence that separates the Compton residence from Gran's house. He steps over it easily, being as freakishly tall as he is. I can't exactly say the same for me; I have to step on one of the posts ungraciously, and swing my legs over. Fortunately for me, he grabs me around the waist and hoists me down onto the grass securely with ease. I smile up at him through the dark gratefully.

"I just want to make a few things clear here," I tell him desperately, as we walk towards the lit porch that belongs to Vampire Bill.

He pauses stock-still from his walking and peers down at me. "What?"

I'm very pleased he is taking me seriously, and not dismissing all that I'm saying to him. I need it to be very clear on him, just what I have in mind. "Just don't do anything too bad, like killing him, for instance. I just want him scared shitless, so that he won't come near me again, all right? So, just don't go too far, all right?"

"I won't," he assures me, with very strong conviction in his voice that makes it impossible to doubt his sincerity. And I'm holding him to that promise, very much so. He waves an arm around impatiently. "Can we do this?" He starts walking again.

"Oh, and another thing," I begin urgently.

I grab him by the arm, restraining him back as much as I'm possible, which isn't really much. He sighs loudly, and stills again. "What the fuck else? At this rate, we won't be getting it done, which is a pity, because I'm in the mood..."

I pull my handgun free from his belt, and hold it out in front of me carefully. "I just want this back," I answer, smiling sweetly at him. "That is all. Let's do this!" I try to sound excited, but I'm not at all convincing in the slightest. No, I'm nervous as all hell. I've never done something like this before, after all; Nor did I ever dream I would be... I never thought I was the type of girl. Guess I am.

We continue towards the lit porch in silence, and stop in front of the large house.

"Do you want me to barge right in, haul him out on his ass, then spray the fuck out of him?" Eric asks me uncertainly. The guilt swells up inside of me even more. I'm such a terrible excuse for a human. Oh, well. It's too late to turn back now, though, and Eric looks very coolly determined.

"Uh, I kind of want to do it myself. I want to make myself known to him first. I got my gun on me, so maybe... if you just, uhm, hang around in the background, then make yourself known?"

He doesn't seem too happy by the sound of that, but he relents after a reluctant moment. "Fine," he sighs. "Whatever you want, Perky."

"Great."

Taking in a deep breath for courage, I climb slowly up each porch step. My legs feel like they're shaking. My hands are trembling, too, but when I clasp the pair of them tightly over the handle of the gun and relax my fingers a little bit, it doesn't seem too noticeable to me. Vampire Bill obviously has his stereo going; As I inch closer towards the door, holding out the gun in front of me like I've seen detectives do on crime shows, I hear some Johnny Cash emulating throughout the house. 'Ring of Fire' is playing. This Vampire must sure love his country music. Suddenly, a figure blurs and appears at the right of me. I almost shriek in alarm, because I'm so jumpy tonight. To my relief, it's only Eric. He pushes back against the wall with his shoulders, so he's concealed from the front door. Regathering my courage, I loosen one hand off the handle of my gun to raise my fist to the front door. I pound on it a few times and then, unnervingly, the Johnny Cash music stops abruptly. I hear footsteps come down a flight of stairs sedately, and then, sure enough, the front door swings open.

The instance Vampire Bill's eyes meet mine, I feel the color drain from my face.

"Er, hello." He sounds very surprised that he's got a visitor. That surprise increases when he finally takes notice of what I'm holding in between my hands. His dark grey eyes flit down to it, and I catch his face collapse into itself in shock, before it smooths out to its regular pasty whiteness again. Showing no fear, and extremely daunting to me, he takes a step closer to me. He's not afraid of the fact some girl showed up randomly threatening him with a gun at all. "What's all this about?" he asks me, sounding very clueless. "Is this about this evening?"

Tightening my grasp on the gun, I raise it and point the nozzle directly at his chest. I'm shaking so badly, I hate it.

"Hi, Bill," I manage, as cheerfully as I can. My voice sounds too hoarse and it fails me awfully. I sound just as nervous as I feel. "I was hoping you'd maybe like to come out for a walk with me? It seems we need to have a little talk, and make a few things very clear."

He stares at me, then takes another step closer. My mouth completely dries. He has no fear at all.

"On your own?" he asks, arching a dark eyebrow. "Oh, dear. You truly must be naive .." He trails off as he takes another slow step towards me, his eyes glistening in amusement. The fact he shows no fear... it chills me to the bone. It takes me a moment to remember Eric is still with me, and thank heavens for that. "Hasn't anyone told you, or did Eric put you up to this, as his human?" he asks, with chilling contempt as he says the name. "A gun will not keep me from you. Don't you know that silver is our only one true weakness?"

Keeping my eyes firmly planted on his, I make the signal. Well, it's hardly what you would call a proper signal. I just bob my head to the side, fixing my teeth to prepare myself in advance for what's about to come.

And a head bob's clearly enough...

Eric kicks off the wall and slips into view from behind me. The vampire, Bill, widens his eyes, puzzled at the sight of him. He clearly wasn't expecting that. I feel some sordid sense of satisfaction simmer and burn within.

"E-Eric?" he whispers out, stunned. If the sight of me holding a gun pointing directly at him unfazed him, the sight of Eric magically appearing as my accomplice sure didn't. His entire composure slips instantly, and he stiffens. "Sheriff, what is the reason for this?" He swallows audibly, and thrusts a thumb over his shoulder. "I was simply inside, playing my records. I- I do not understand the meaning of this?"

"Good evening, Bill," Eric says softly from behind my shoulder, not giving much away in what he's feeling about the whole situation. He sounds admirably calm. I truly wish some of that calm would rub off on me, but then again, maybe he has had a whole lot of experience in things like this? "No doubt, you are aware of the duties I am expected of, as Sheriff of Area 5, which includes this general area?"

Sheriff?

Bill jerks his head solemnly; A silent nod in confirmation.

"It is my responsibility to ensure that all vampires existing in my area are to comply with certain regulations, and I am to act accordingly in a way I presume fitting, if they do not." He slips up a bit; Frustration pours throughout his voice with the uttered words.

Bill holds his hands out to him resignedly, his fingers splayed. "But I have committed no crimes. I am not guilty, of anything. I have obeyed willingly. I have dedicated my life to mainstreaming, which is more than I can say for you..."

"How about intimidating my human, and asking her repetitively for the exchange of blood? It happened an evening ago, did it not, when you were under attack from two vampire-drainers? Did you not commit an offense then, when you fucking asked to consume her blood, or for her to consume yours- even when you knew she was mine?"

Bill glances at me accusatorily, before looking back at Eric. "Oh, spare me," he scoffs. "You would take a human's word over mine? The human is lying!"

I feel my temper flare, and I wish then that Eric hadn't made me take the bullets out from the gun. I so would have loved to shoot him for what he was implying; That I was a liar, and nothing more.

Eric laughs behind me; A short, throaty, disbelieving one. "Let's admit it to ourselves, Bill. We don't exactly have a track-record for being pleasant to one another. Now, are you saying my human is dishonest?"

"Your human is lying," Bill insists coldly. I gasp out loud, in outrage.

"She is more trustworthy than you are, even for a human."

"And isn't she exactly the same fucking thing that killed your beloved Maker Godric?" Bill seethes loudly. "She is the same life-form that killed the man you loved so dearly. She is like the rest of them, and you are fooling yourself! What fucking matter does it make if she's not the one lying or not?"

"You know, I've heard enough of this bullshit," Eric says sharply, slipping in front of me. I make sure to lower my gun so I don't point it at him- even if it isn't loaded. "Step the fuck out of your house. It isn't going to help you. Either you come out right now, or I can easily make you do it myself by force. Which is it, Bill?"

Bill looks between us hesitantly, before taking a small step out onto the porch. He looks oddly enough as if he has accepted defeat, and is doing the walk of shame.

"How about that evening walk, Bill?" Eric asks, turning to look me in the eyes. He sends a quick nod my way, signalling that the game has begun. "It certainly is a beautiful night for it, wouldn't you say, Sookie?" And at that, dropping all pleasant pretense immediately, he lifts a leg fluidly and sends a swift kick into the center of Bill's spine with his boot. I wince, and cover my mouth as the vampire, Bill, takes a rough tumble head-first down the steps of his porch, and slams into the dusty ground.

As Bill groans weakly, and nurses the back of his head with his hands, Eric peels off his leather jacket and tosses it on the porch at his feet. He rolls up each sleeve to his elbows, and takes in a deep breath. He looks like a man fierce and ready to go in for a battle; a long-awaited one he has waited for, for centuries. Squaring his broad shoulders, and looking very animalistic and predatory while he is at it, he climbs down the steps and stands over Bill. He prods into his leg with one of his shoes.

"Get up," he commands him quietly. "Stand the fuck up."

With another groan, Bill gets to his feet and dusts the dirt off his shirt and trousers with his hands quickly.

"Well, Sookie. You make the shots. Where do you want this?" It startles me, Eric asking me; It takes me a second to recover.

"Um, in the woods. I don't want Gran overhearing."

"The woods it is, then," he nods, satisfied.

And so, we're off. All three of us. Bill stumbles ahead of us, as we walk behind him to the opening of the woods. We walk for about five minutes in silence, with the only thing to be heard is the sounds of Bill's sobbing. I can't deny, I was having my regrets. I felt sorry for Bill, in a sense. Yet, I also didn't. I also was anticipating what Eric was about to do to him; It was horrible of me, yes, but I just couldn't help it. And Eric hardly seemed as if he minded. It wasn't like it was a chore to him; When I peek over at him, his eyes are burning into the back of Bill's head with smoldering, naked hatred.

"Here?" Eric asks me, when we come to a long tree.

"Sure, it'll do, I guess."

"Good." He is completely careless and cool, like an expert pain-inducer or something. "Bill, turn around, and stand by that tree."

"What are you going to do now?" Bill asks tiredly, as he turns around and stares at us. "Are you going to sentence me to my true death, all because of your human?"

"No, death will be too easy for you," Eric informs him, far too casually than what seems appropriate. He reaches into his jeans and produces a canister, of what I'm presuming is that Silver-Spray we spoke about. "This, here, is called Silver-Spray, Bill." He holds it up to him, and gives it a little shake. I hear Bill give out a pitiful whimpering noise."I don't know if you've heard of it, but I hear it's very good and sells on the market at a reasonable price. It's popular with humans."

"Look, isn't there something else we could do? A formal agreement, perhaps? Is this really-?"

Eric holds up his hand, effectively shutting him up. He turns to look at me again. "Well, Sookie?" he inquires. "What do you want to do?"

"How about we just tie him to the tree?" I ask nervously.

"What with? How about that silver necklace of yours?"

"All right, sure. Fine." It's obvious we haven't thought it through enough. But I know what I did not want; And that was Eric doing too much. This could all be solved responsibly with a few strict words, after all.

I work at unclasping my necklace, and Eric holds out his hand for it. I deliberate for a moment, before recalling he has his latex gloves on. No wonder he has them on, then. I plop the necklace into his hand, and watch as he goes behind the tree. He grabs Bill's wrists, and yanks his arms around the log. Eric's far too calm; It's a bit unnerving. I asked this of him, though. It's both equally touching and scary that he agreed to it so quickly. I wonder idly what he would do if I ask him, out of the blue, to murder someone. Would he do that, too? Something tells me he might have, and I'm not sure why he would even bother going to great lengths for me. Unless he actually cares and likes me, in some way, and it isn't just only because he wants me, and this odd agreement we made?

Once he's done with binding his wrists up with silver, Bill makes a few sad noises and hisses of pain. Just as I'm becoming concerned, he says, bitterly, "You two deserve each other, you know that? You are both equally as crazy as each other! Fucking lunatics!" His voice sounds all gravelly, resembling a chain-smokers.

Eric turns to look at me over his shoulder thoughtfully, as he treads back around the tree. "Well, if this is what crazy feels like, I've never felt more alive in my fucking existence than I have since Perky, Billy-Boy."

Bill looks at him with sheer hatred. "Do you know what people think of you? Do you know why they are truly fearful of you, Eric? It is because everybody knows you are insane!" He strains against the tree to get loose from the silver, as his voice rises. "Ever since Godric, everybody knows you are as mad as a psychiatric patient! Talking to yourself, having hallucinations! Everybody knows what you truly are! That is why no one dares to confront you- it is because of how fucking bat-shit crazy you are!" He levels his ice-cold stare onto me, and he's so angry, his face is shaking in rage, and his fangs are gleaming at me from where I stand. "And you only endure him because you are equally as fucked up as he is!"

And then, Eric's royally heard enough.

He reaches out and slams a hand around Bill's throat, closing his fingers around his windpipe. Bill coughs and wheezes. "And what if I kill Lorena, huh?" Eric spits out through his teeth tauntingly. Bill's eyes widen involuntarily at his words. "I know she is still out there somewhere. Maybe she will appear to you, as Godric does to me? Perhaps we could share our grief with losing our Maker's? Would you be so quick to judge then? Would I still be considered fucking insane?" A vein his neck twitches as he yells, and Bill flinches in terror. I try not to get involved, and let the pair of them have their moment. But when Eric shifts his body to face me, breathing raggedly all the while, it's obvious he wants me involved. "Pliers, Sookie," he says, with a short laugh.

Pliers? What?

"Uhm, I didn't..." _Bring any... And besides, why on earth would he need pliers for?_

"I'm fucking joking, Bill." He laughs darkly at Bill's expression. "Your baby-fangs are not in danger at this time. They will be, however, if you use them to purposefully intimidate my human again, do you understand?"

"Why are you so protective of her?" Bill breathes weakly. "Why do you care about her? You haven't cared for a human in years!"

"Who knows the answer to that? I don't. Better questions yet, Bill: Why do I get an insatiable urge to vomit every time I am around her? Why is there such fucking primordial rage at the thought of fuck-tards like you causing her harm? Why do I feel all fluttery in my chest, when I'm dead and all vital components, such as the heart, aren't functioning? Unsolved mysteries of the universe, Bill. Who knows the reason for anything anymore? It just... is. Now," he goes on, more brightly, "Apologize to Sookie, and we will be done here. No more harm will be done to you tonight, Bill, if you say the magic words."

Thank God. I didn't think it was ever going to end...

Bill hesitates, before mumbling sourly, "My sincerest apologies."

"Good." Eric let's his hand fall from his throat, seemingly satisfied. He walks back over to my side. "Well, we're done here. Let's go."

"Wait a minute," Bill calls out to us, panicked, as we start strolling together back the way we entered.

We both turn to look at him at the same time.

"What?" Eric says.

"You cannot leave me here like this! What happens when the sun rises, and I am still here!"

"You know what happens, Bill," Eric says simply, with a shrug.

"Please," he begs unevenly, and my heart almost aches for him. "You cannot possibly do this!"

Eric sighs loudly; He's clearly not as easily swayed as I am. He grabs my hand and pulls it towards his face. For a moment, I'm not sure what he's doing, until I realize he's reading the time on my watch. "Bill, you've got eight hours," he says, turning away from him carelessly, interlacing his fingers through mine. Eric tugs on my hand sharply, and I start walking with him again. "You better hurry the fuck up and get yourself out of that silver, before sunrise. And if you hassle Sookie in any way ever again, you'll be sorry."

We walk back into Gran's yard, Eric keeping me close beside him, subdued, neither one of us daring to say anything. I guess we're both way too exhausted. At least, we weren't getting angry with each other. I think we both felt too drained to say anything, and maybe saying some snide remark wasn't what I wanted to do towards him anymore. He has changed in my eyes, a bit; How odd it is that people are scared of him, and consider him frightening, when he seems far more... nicer and considerate than all the rest. I realize now that there are vampires out there way worse than he ever could be; They probably wouldn't ever go out of their way to threaten another vampire in order to keep what they considered 'their human' safe.

"Is that what you wanted? Or should I have dragged it out a bit more and beat the shit out of him?" he asks after a while. He sounds just as sleepy as I feel. Exhausted; Both mentally, and physically. I guess organizing to threaten somebody does that to a person's energy.

I'm horrified when I feel a satisfied smile tugging up the corners of my mouth. "Surprisingly, yes. It was exactly what I wanted. Thank you."

It dawns onto me, that I feel so protected around him. I feel safe. That was probably just because he was strong, and he didn't mind doing terrible things for me, like what we just did to the vampire, Bill. I feel at home, astonishingly. At home with the silence, and his company.

Suddenly, I don't really seem to care whether he tells people I'm his human or not, because I can rely on him. And hopefully, he can rely on me, just the same.

I plop down onto the steps of Gran's porch once we finally reach the house, and he stands around uncertainly for a moment, before he collapses down next to me, panting heavily like he's only just finished a long sprint. He knocks his shoulder lightly against mine- well, as lightly as he can manage, for a pretty powerful vampire- and I think he is trying to get my attention. I peer up at him numbly, and then instantly regret doing so. I see it all over again, it replays all over in my mind again; what we just did to that vampire, and I feel terribly ill with guilt. The look on his face throughout it all: utterly indifferent, like he did it for a living.

How could I ask him to do such a terrible thing to another, whether they be vampire or otherwise? Worse still; How could I stand back and watch, and not even so much as intervene or say a word? I am the worse excuse of a Christian. That vampire; He's no doubt still out there, fighting to get free. It's so horrible of me, so cruel.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Eric says lightly. His eyes glisten with humour. "Nothing like a bit of torture to brighten your mood." I think he was trying to make fun of the situation somehow, only it didn't quite work.

Tears hit my eyes before they spill from my cheeks. I'm left feeling miserable, and disgusted with myself.

Suddenly, I lose it. It's not exactly something I would have ever wanted to do in front of him, but it just couldn't be helped; I break down crying loudly. I have to get that guilt and relief out of my system somehow, and I felt sobbing hysterically was the only good and helpful way to do it.

It's obvious he doesn't know how to react to a sobbing girl. He shifts slightly on the steps at the piercing sound of my wailings, as if uncomfortable, and curses underneath his breath tiredly. At least, he has enough sense not to try comforting me, right now. I'm far too emotional to appreciate it. Instead, he let's me go on weeping to my heart's content, for a little over five minutes. My eyesight gets all blurry with tears, and my entire frame is trembling underneath the violent sobs shaking me. All the while, he just sits there, eyes averted to his gloved hands that are clasped in his lap, blatantly ignoring me. A few times, alarming me, I catch him bringing his hand up, like he is undecided on whether to comfort me or not. He clearly decides against it though, each and every single time.

"Don't be such a fucking baby," he says after a while quietly, but at least somewhat sympathetically. Regardless, it stings me, quite a bit. Can you really blame a girl for sobbing in a time like this? "You wanted this. At least, he'll stay away now."

I laugh, incredulous. "Well, excuse me for getting upset and feeling horrible with myself." I mumble, out of breath from crying so hard. "I can't believe we just did that. I'm such a horrible person for asking you to do that!"

He leans over to me on the step as he peels off the gloves on each hand, giving me an odd look. "You weren't holding a fucking gun to my head, were you?"

"No, I wasn't. I could have, though." I lift the handgun I'm still holding up to him, and smile glumly. "Well, it doesn't have bullets in it, thanks to you. But I sure could have!"

"Even if you were, it wouldn't have made much difference any way. I still would have done it."

"Really?" I ask, eyeing him doubtfully. "You still would have done it to him?"

"I've wanted to for years. Pam and I had an altercation with him and his whore Lorena many, many years ago. I've never had the excuse to do it, though."

"And how does it feel now that you've finally done it?"

A slow smile seeps across his face. "Fucking great." His eyes drift to the moon in thought. "Biggest disappointment," he says so quietly, I almost miss it.

"Huh?"

"I said, biggest disappointment," he repeats more loudly, so that I can hear him clearly this time. He sighs loudly, in a somewhat wistful way. "The biggest disappointment... was when you revealed yourself in my office as not a Fang-banger. It was the biggest disappointment." He turns to look at me earnestly, holding my gaze. I can tell it's meant to be a compliment, or a sweet thing to say to me, and I feel the blood rise up to my face.

"Why? Because you wish I was as cheap and easy, and that I'd let you have my blood first chance you got?"

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head. "Oh, it isn't about your blood at all." Without warning, his fangs slide down, and I inhale in a shaky breath, before tearing my eyes away from his. When will they ever stop scaring me?

"What a total buzz-kill," I whisper sardonically. Then let loose a short and shaky laugh. Just when I was starting to get too comfortable around him, he goes and does something to ruin it...

"And you continuously go on that you're not afraid of me..." He says, probably picking up on my mood.

"And I'm not!"

"Oh, but you're afraid of my fangs." He sounds awfully convinced on that and, yep, maybe he's right.

"Maybe, I am," I confess stiffly. "But only a smidgen."

"Why is that?"

It takes me a bit of wondering myself. "I don't know," I whisper tentatively. "Maybe it's because I know what they're for. And that's for biting. You see, I'm not a total fool, after all."

"You might come to enjoy them. It can be a... two-way road."

"Two-way road?" I blink over at him, puzzled.

"Some humans express their enjoyment for it. After a while, anyway, once they, uh..." He quickly averts my gaze, looking hilariously uncomfortable, for some reason or another. "... grow accustomed to the, uh, experience." He peers down at his shoes. "No doubt, you already know why it presents us vampires such pleasure. Please don't tell me I have to expand on even that."

"You definitely don't."

"Well, good."

We lapse into another awkward silence. I'm glad I'm not crying anymore.

"Don't you think if I only wanted your blood, I could have had it done already?" he asks thoughtfully.

I consider that for a moment, feeling uneasy. "Yeah, I'm definitely sure you could have."

"If that was the only thing I wanted from you, I would have already done it within the minute, and there wouldn't be a single fucking thing you could do about it to stop me." It sounds very much like a threat. To me, anyhow. He is gloating. "I could easily lay you down on the porch, right now, and have your blood. Instead, I'm not doing that, despite how fucking easy it would be for me."

"Then why aren't you doing it, then? I mean, you've got your fangs ready for it."

It seems he doesn't know how to comment on that. I've made him speechless. Yipee.

"Maybe because it isn't your blood that I want," he says, after a few seconds have gone by.

I almost snort. How can he not want my blood, though? Isn't that what every vampire wants? Sure, I don't know much about how vampire's mind's work, but I'd like to think I knew some things.

"Then what do you want from me, if it isn't my blood?"

"Do you forget our conversation from a few night's ago?"

Of course, I haven't. How could I? His words were kind of cryptic, though. He wanted everything, and I was the only one possible to give it to him. What's everything, though?

"Oh, yes," I whisper, trying to hold in a laugh. "You want everything. But _what's_ everything?"

"If you even have to ask that, it seems I'm overestimating your intelligence." There he goes on about my intelligence again... His expression really says it all; It's full of hungry desire.

"By the way, I hope you don't have plans on coming inside my bedroom again anytime soon. That was rude, and I was not very happy that you did."

"Well, I enjoyed coming into your room," he says, his voice soft and earnest.

"Well, I sure as hell didn't. It was a very... rude awakening to find you standing there like a...a pervert, while I was getting undressed!"

"Oh, please. You loved it." I get the strangest sensation of déjà vu; It was exactly the words he said in my dream last night. Maybe not completely how he said it, but familiar enough. How strange.

I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from saying something I might come to regret later. Instead, I keep my snarky comments to myself. I was hardly in the mood tonight, after everything. "I might just..." Tentatively, I reach up and touch his right fang closest to me with my thumb, moving up and down slowly. Suddenly, they aren't so daunting when you feel them. It feels all... smooth. He closes his eyes, and appears to be enjoying it. How... odd. He likes it. He likes me touching his fang. I sure hope those fangs aren't connected to some erogenous nerves that excite and arouse a vamp. "Ahem. Sorry," I quickly put my hand down when he makes a very deep moan. He's definitely enjoying it way too much. "So, you're a Sheriff, huh?" I ask, recalling his words of before. "I heard you say that to Bill when you were making your speech?"

"That, I am. And it is something I take seriously."

"Do you have a hat and one of those star badges?"

_Oops. Guess not._ He gives me an _are-you-crazy_ look. I only meant it as a joke, anyhow.

"Is it something you vampire's always do, as punishment? Silvering another vampire to a tree?"

"No, this was a one-off thing. Usually, we kill them, if their offense is severe. He committed a wrong-doing the instance he requested your blood, and for you to have some of his, despite the fact he knew you were my human. You're off-limits to anyone, but me. No one else is allowed to feed on you, but obviously, he disregarded all of that, like a fucking idiot. I think we dealt with him far more leniently than he deserved..."

It may have gotten me a little miffed, but not as much anymore. I think I'm almost accepting of it now. If being his human means other vampire's aren't allowed to hurt me, then so be it. I'll take it. "So, you would have killed him if it hadn't been for me standing around?"

"I might of." He shrugs, as if it's no big deal. It did seem a big deal to me, murdering someone...

"Well, who knows? Maybe he won't be able to make it out of the silver in time enough? Maybe you might get your wish?"

"Oh, he will make it out in time," he says quietly, looking extremely disappointed. "You don't seem to understand the capacities of our strength. A night ago, when you foolishly ran off to assist him, what you didn't know was that he would have been perfectly fine, and capable of handling himself. Getting the blood drained out of you, is unpleasant, but it isn't enough to kill you. At least, not with the meagre amount those two fuckers were attempting to take out of him. He would have been weak for a month or two, yes. But he would have survived it. You, on the other hand, wouldn't have if you were succeeded in getting stabbed. Your human life is far too fragile, than ours. You shouldn't take it for granted. Don't go risking your life, especially not for a vampire like Bill."

I have a feeling we're back to our conversation from earlier. "Yes, I know. I'm an idiot."

"That, you are."

I feel my throat tighten again at his words, and ache. I'm on the verge of sobbing dangerously again, but I try with all my might to withhold it. Something tells me he might appreciate that; Clearly, he doesn't know how to deal with a hysterical girl. "I feel like I need a hug right now," I tell him, eyeing him meaningfully. "And the only person I got closest to me, is you. Do you mind?" I feel weird asking for his permission on something so small and undemanding as a hug.

He doesn't say anything in response, just stares at me like I'm an alien speaking in gibberish. Thinking to hell with it, I twist on my side on the step to get at him, throwing my arms around his shoulders, burying the side of my face into his cold neck. I feel him stiffen around my arms, probably in discomfort and shock. Even though he's so rigid and stiff, he gives good hugs. It's a bit like hugging a truly dead corpse, because he is so unresponsive, and unsure of what he's meant to do, especially with his hands. I catch him raise them in the air at his sides uncertainly, more than once. But hugging him is surprisingly very snug and comforting to me. Maybe no one has ever hugged him before, at least not as outright as I am? If so, then it's ridiculous. Who doesn't love hugs? He moves again underneath me, and I can tell it's because I've made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry," I whisper, smiling into his neck. "I can move, if you like? Is this too close for you?"

"No, it isn't that." His voice goes so deep and low, I probably would have difficulty hearing it, if I hadn't been so close, embracing him the way I was.

"What is it, then?"

"This..." He sighs, in a somewhat content and startled way. He rests his chin against the side of my head, surprising even me. "This usually doesn't happen. Especially not to me."

I blink into his neck, confused. "What?" I feel the corners of my mouth pull down into a deep frown. "Getting hugged, like this, you mean?"

"Yes. Exactly this. Not with a human."

My heart twists for him. "That's kind of... sad."

He sighs again deeply, and his hands twitch at his sides. He clearly isn't sure whether he's meant touch me or respond to my hug on some level, but I can't say I'm concerned, either way. It still feels good, even if the hug is one-sided. I don't know how long I spend indulgently hugging him, but after a while, it gets kind of... awkward, and I realize I'm probably boring him to death, while he sits there, still as a statue, letting me have my way patiently. His eyes shine as I pull away and hug my knees instead, like a good girl. I can feel him staring at my face. He's probably getting to thinking I'm a loony, and maybe I was? Maybe I didn't care anymore if I was, though?

"Well, I think it's best I get to bed," I tell him, after a bit. I coerce my feet into working, and hop onto them unsteadily. "I'm royally beat after all that." He blinks up at me in silence from where he sits, and everything is so awkward and weird. He looks a little red around the rims of his eyes, and his fangs glisten up at me from underneath his top lip disconcertingly. It occurs to me that I don't know how to say goodbye, or goodnight, even. How can a simple farewell possibly be good enough after all that he has done for me tonight? It just doesn't seem like nearly enough. I smile down at him tentatively. "Thanks so much for what you did tonight. It means a real lot to me." Even expressing my gratitude seems pretty lacking. What do you give a vampire after that? What's an adequate gift? I'm not even sure. For the life of me, I haven't two wits what to say or do to demonstrate my gratitude. "I'm real thankful. I just hope he'll get off my back now..."

"Don't mention it," he says dismissively, with an indifferent shrug. And still... he stares up at me with a hopeful glint to his blue eyes that I can't quite figure out.

He is clearly expecting something, though. Because, why else would he just be sitting there silently? He's waiting on me to do..._ something_.

"Well, uhm. Night, Eric," I giggle hesitantly. I lift my hand and pat his cheek gently with my fingertips. He closes his eyes tightly in response, and even throws in a grunt for good measure.

_Oh, Lordy. Can this get anymore awkward?_

I feel my eyes moisten, as an unbearable wave of emotion comes over me. Suddenly, I'm feeling emotional and on the verge of crying again, for some reason.

"Uh, thank you again," I say, what feels like the millionth time I've said it in the past few minutes. Quickly, I wipe my eyes.

He reopens his eyes slowly, and gazes up at me. I realize, I don't quite want to part ways with him just yet. It feels too... sudden, and cruel of me to leave him hanging.

A lump forms in my throat, and I have to clear it loudly to make it go away. "Or you know... you could maybe just, um... come inside for a while?" I blab, without thinking. "Maybe come into my bedroom, since... I guess, you have my permission now, if you like?" I can tell, to him, in his own language he interprets that as the green-light to finally go ahead and have sex with me, because a distinctively dirty look flits across his face, and he gets to his feet abruptly, looking triumphant and very, very pleased.

"Fuck, yes. Lead the way," he says eagerly, waving an arm around impatiently. Holy ass. Sex wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but oh well.

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**Hope you enjoyed this one? Big disappointment LOL? Sorry it's such a long chapter. Soon as I got writing, it was impossible to stop. Feel free to let me know your thoughts, please, as I do love hearing from you all :) I apologize for any mistakes I've missed.**


	12. Fluttering Chest

** First, I want to thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and for following this story, and for being so supportive. You are all amazing, and I love you all. Hoping you enjoy this one. As usual, I'm extremely nervous LOL. Feel free to let me know your thoughts :-)**

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**_Chapter Twelve_**

It feels odd having Eric Northman in my bedroom. Even if it is with my permission this time around.

I'm not quite sure where we go from here. It's obvious he's expecting me to go ahead and rip off my clothes, and let him have his way. Maybe that's a sufficient demonstration of gratitude to a vampire who just threatened another for me?

I gaze at his face nervously as he walks around the room curiously, like a man lost in a strange and unfamiliar world. He glances around, assessing everything. He goes over to my dresser, which is cluttered with hair products, body moisturizer, and make-up. He picks up one of my lip balms and inspects it curiously, uncaps it, and holds it up his nose. I'm pretty sure I hear him inhale it in.

"Nice room, by the way," he says, stunning me. I can't tell whether he's being serious or patronizing.

"It's nothing all that fancy. I know."

He holds up my lip balm into the air, and turns his eyes onto me. "Is this supposed to be one of those scented things?"

I don't know whether to laugh by the odd interest he has in my lip balm. "Um, no. It's not meant to be scented."

"I was going to say, if so, they failed..." He holds it up to his nose again, and takes in another deep sniff. "I can't smell a single fucking thing."

"You're not meant to smell anything."

He nods distractedly, and his eyes fall onto my bed, where they rest there for a long moment. Here it is, it's finally going to happen. It's now or never, and tonight was a decent enough time as any.

Having him in bedroom, it almost makes me feel prepared and ready. I feel all tense with anticipation. Honestly, I just want to get this damn thing over between us, as quickly as possible. It would feel good not having to worry about what's coming around the corner, sooner or later.

Taking in a deep breath for courage, and making my unsteady limbs work, I pull off my woollen jumper over my head and throw it down at my feet, all the while judging his reaction to it. Hmmm. Nothing. He simply stands there, his thumbs hooked into the sides of his leather belt holding up his jeans, casually inspecting my room. He goes over to the desk that holds my old computer on it, paying me no attention whatsoever. He doesn't even send a leering look my way, no less. Not even a filthy remark. Well, it's pretty disappointing.

He raises a hand to the computer desk and his fingers give the old keyboard a good work-out, pressing down numerous random keys. When he finally turns to look at me, he shows no indication that he knows I've removed one article of clothing, and that I am intending to take more off, anytime soon.

"Do you know how to set-up email accounts?" he asks me, completely out of the blue. Um, okay. It throws me off balance, in a super big way. I'm getting ready to undress myself for sex, and he's interested in my computer instead? Since when? What happened to that vampire a few nights ago, who was saying all this perverted and sexual stuff to me (and, not to mention... insinuating coffin sex)? Where did he go because he's certainly not here, present in this room?

"Um, of course, I do." Setting up an email address wasn't the most difficult thing in the world. Maybe he wasn't all that great with computers?

"Can you help me? Pam's the techie. I don't know half a shit about computers." It occurs to me he is being completely sincere on that; He actually wants me to help him set up an email address, for goodness sake.

"Um, sure." I can't deny I'm feeling a bit deflated in mood, but I succeed in not letting it show. We spend a few moments waiting for my computer to boot up, and he stares at the screen in strangely hilarious confusion. How funny. Eric Northman doesn't know how to do something as simple as using a computer. It wasn't something I was expecting. "You seriously don't know how to use a computer?" I ask him, in disbelief.

"Yes." He doesn't sound too happy to admit that to me.

I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Is something fucking funny?"

"No, it's just... I can't believe you don't know how to use a computer."

"Pam uses it," he says defensively. "She's always on E-Bay. They didn't have this shit around thirty years ago. I don't understand the trend."

"You can go right ahead and sit in the computer chair," I tell him, making sure to put my hand on his back. His entire back and shoulders stiffen rigidly, before he yanks out the computer chair from underneath the desk and sits. I just love that I can make him feel uncomfortable, and all it takes is touching him. I make big, notorious vampire Eric Northman nervous simply by touching him. That knowledge pleases me to no end. I am a wickedly happy girl. "Now we've just got to open up the email account for you." I lean against the back of the computer chair and reach down over his shoulder with my hand, being real careful to invade his personal space, while I do it. I open up the internet, resting my chin near the side of his face, just an inch or so from his earlobe. He stiffens again, and I hear him make a deep noise from the very back of his throat. It's a very exhilarating sound that tells me my close proximity to him is having intended effect. "Are you following me?"

He brings a tightly fisted hand up to his mouth, and presses the back of his knuckles against his lips. He clears his throat loudly, as if he's got a frog caught in it or something. "Yes," he says, his voice coming out muffled and hoarse against his skin.

"Now you just got to write down your details, and what you want your email address to be."

"All right. I think I can handle it from here." I can tell he is majorly annoyed at having me help him set up an email-address. He must think it's detrimental to his pride, or something. He glances down at the keyboard like it's a foreign contraption, and let's his hand fall from his mouth. His large fingers hover over the keys uncertainly. "Now what?" he barks out impatiently.

"You just write in your name, and details. It isn't that hard."

"Well, it is to me." He says it like he's admitting to some inexorable fault. I find it quite endearing he doesn't know much about technology, really. I have to stifle a smile, pressing my lips together.

He starts to type his name, slowly and carefully pressing down into the keys with the tips of his fingers. My Lord, we'll be here all night, by the looks of it.

I remain standing over him, repeatedly touching him occasionally and singing him high praises despite his slowness. I touch his shoulders with my hands, and be sure to keep my cheek near his. His hands get dramatically slower from their typing, each and every time I do. By the time he is finished typing everything out- which takes roughly over twenty-five minutes- I notice his hands and fingers are trembling.

"Now what, Perky?"

"All right. You just press that blue enter button right there and, hopefully, it'll work."

"What blue enter button?" he asks, far too loudly than what I consider necessary.

I'm getting all frustrated myself, because it's rubbing off on me. "The one on the damn screen!"

"Oh." He stabs a finger down onto the mouse, realizing, and we wait as patiently as we possibly can until it gives us the confirmation that his address has all been set up. Unfortunately, it goes back to the same page.

"You didn't put in your birth date," I tell him, trying not to sound too sullen.

"Well, it doesn't go back that far." He's speaking through clenched teeth. "It doesn't go back a thousand-fucking-years!"

Jesus Christ Almighty. "Then just make up your birth date. Select any one. Lie."

"Which date, then?"

"Just choose any goddamn one. There really isn't any need to be so picky!"

He makes a gruff noise, a grunt at me over my obvious frustration- oddly enough, sounding like a suppressed laugh- and, at true last, picks one. It's a success this time, and an unfamiliar weight lifts instantly off my shoulders. Eric sags in the computer chair in relief. Finally. Hallelujah, it's over! Now we can move onto more important and interesting things...

Like taking off our clothes, and...

Heaven forbid... Sex.

He stands from the computer chair fluidly, and stares at me, with an odd look I can't quite gather. It seems like a look that says to me:_ Well, here we are. Let's do this. Let's have the sex you promised me._

I feel this is it. It begins now. Why else would he come into my room, after all? He's expecting it, I know he is. And maybe I am, too.

"My Grandmother is in her room across the hall," I inform him meaningfully. "We might just have to be a bit quiet."

He blinks at me several times, folding his arms over his chest. "What?"

I come at him mercilessly, and he tries to take a step back. He almost stumbles back into the computer chair, if he hadn't caught himself in the nick of time, and straightened himself up. He grabs onto the desk quickly for support with a hand, when I near him and rise up onto the tips of my toes to finally get at him.

He clutches my face in his hands, catching me unfairly before I even so much as have the time to kiss him, and I raise my eyes to hold his anxious gaze. It's like he is questioning me with his eyes alone; Do I want this, right here and now? Hell, yes. I damn well do. I'm nervous, as any first-timer would be. But I feel tonight's the right time for it, the right... moment, for it to finally happen. Especially after what he did for me tonight, off his own back, with the Vampire Bill.

I feel like I saw a different side to him tonight. A dangerous, but ultimately caring side of him. He silvered the Vampire Bill up to a tree, for me. Now it is my turn to give him something. And what better thing to give him, than this? We made an agreement, after all. I would have sex with him, if he met my Grandmother. And, now that he already has, why delay it any longer? Now is a good enough time as any.

"I mightn't know much, but I know I'm ready for this," I confess, my voice barely audible. But fortunately, he hears me, loud and clear. I bring my hands up to wrap them around his upper arms, feeling around curiously. He's surprisingly very muscular. "I want to get it over and done with. I want you to have me, like I swore you would, but... I also want you to keep in mind, that this will be my first time, and that I've never done something like this before. I'll need you to take it easy on me, and for you to show me the way." I try to give him a nervous smile, but my face feels all hot and twitchy. Must be the nerves. "Is that all right with you?" I ask, assessing him anxiously for any sign of expression into how he feels on this.

And there's... nothing.

I can't read him at all. I truly wish I could read his mind somehow, know how he was feeling about all of this, because I haven't the slightest clue on earth.

The pads of his thumbs brush underneath my eyes softly, and my breath gets caught in my throat, when his fangs make their way out between his slightly parted lips. I wince, unable to control it, even though I was expecting them, sooner or later. I now find myself wishing I wasn't so nervous of them, or wary. He surely can't help it that he comes with a pair of fangs... He is a vampire, after all.

And, for the very first time, since he ever came into my life, I feel almost like I want to experience them. I want them on me, as crazy as it is. I want to learn how it feels when being bitten, by a vampire. And that vampire is standing right before me. It's him I want to share my first time with; This maddening, hot-headed vampire, is the one I want to give myself over to completely.

"My Lord," I breathe out nervously, shaking with laughter, when the silence on his end becomes almost unbearable. "Can you say something? Just any little thing will do, please. I feel like a total fool right now, and you saying nothing really isn't helping anything!"

Lifting my hand tentatively, I stroke the skin peeking out of his V-neck shirt with my fingers, the closest thing I can find. Skin on skin contact. This is lovely. I want more, though. I notice his breathing getting louder and his lips part wider, showing even more of the length of those glistening white fangs to me, and it pleases me to the moon and back. I absolutely love that my forward touching flusters him, in some unexplainable way. It's oddly... empowering, and incredibly attractive of him.

"Say something," I plead again unevenly.

"Fucking what, though?" he whispers gruffly, very clueless.

"I don't know. Anything, I guess." I smile up at him, licking my lips to moisten them. "Anything will do at this point in time..."

Slowly, I glide my fingers up over his throat. I feel his skin twitch underneath the tips of them, as he swallows audibly. It becomes obvious to me that he is feeling just as nervous as I am, and it reassures me wonderfully. But I wish I wasn't the only one doing all the experimented touching. His hands remain still, cradling my face, his thumbs stroking around my cheekbones. Maybe he is unsure on where he is supposed to touch me? I can think of thousands of places I'd very much like those hands and fingers to be.

His eyes are wide and luminous, as they peer deeply into mine. I know he is afraid, and nervous by me touching him. I can just tell. And, I think, it makes me want this with him even more. He's being surprisingly self-contained for a vampire.

I hear him catch his breath and make an odd noise emulating from the very back of his throat, when I lean up on my tiptoes and place a soft, gentle kiss on the exposed skin of his chest. He swallows again loudly, and I can hear his breathing growing increasingly shallower by the minute.

"I'm tired of this shit," he murmurs, sounding very frustrated.

I lean back to meet his eyes questioningly. What's he tired of? Me? This? He doesn't want this? Not here? Not now?

"Tired of what?" I'm alarmed by how quiet and breathless my voice sounds as I speak the words. I hardly recognize myself.

"This..." He lifts his gaze and stares past my head, defiantly ignoring me. His eyes narrow at the wall across my head, in a vaguely disgusted way, like he's appalled in the color of the paint or something. "I don't understand this at all."

"Understand what?" I urge desperately, holding my breath. I need to know. It sure would help right now. He doesn't respond, simply stares straight ahead. I grip his shoulders tightly between my hands, and try to give him a little encouraging shake. Well, as much of a gentle shake as I possibly can, in my irritation. "What's there to understand here?"

"The fluttering. Everything." He blinks ahead at me, seemingly confounded by this frequently mentioned fluttering.

We're back to this. The unknown fluttering. Again. I don't even understand what he means by it myself.

"Maybe you should describe it a little more for me, so that we can work it out together," I suggest, purposefully making my voice lighter and sympathetic. "Describe it for me. Where exactly is this fluttering you feel?"

He finally brings his eyes back down to mine. He shakes his head slightly in exasperation. "You wouldn't understand, even if I tried..."

"Oh, come on," I growl, clutching tighter onto his shoulders. "Try me, Mister. Just say it. I don't think you give me the credit I deserve, frankly."

I can hardly breathe, the need to know is killing me...

"You mention it all the time. Where does this fluttering originate from?"

He sighs through his nostrils deeply. "Inside of me."

"All righty." I nod, in a hopefully supportive manner. "And where inside, exactly?"

"I've never felt it before. I think it's... somewhere inside of me-" He stops abruptly, breathing heavily, at a loss in how to explain it. "I don't even know whether the fuck it is, or where it came from, but it... it happens for me. A lot, lately."

All right. Now we're getting somewhere... Finally. I thought it was going to take hours, and hours.

"Like the jitters?" I ask, helping him. He blinks down at me like I've said something in another language. "Like nerves, you mean?"

He shrugs underneath my hands. "I don't know what the fuck it's called," he breathes, almost helplessly. His voice is barely audible.

"You get nervous." I caress his cheek, and I feel the muscles of his jaw clench underneath my palm. "Everybody get's nervous. It's not a big thing!"

He closes his eyes at my words. I can tell he isn't very pleased. "Not me," he insists vehemently. "I do not get fucking nervous. It isn't nervous, it isn't that."

"But what you described as a fluttering feeling... everybody get's that when they're nervous!" I laugh, I can't seem to help it. It's just so endearing to me that he doesn't know how it feels to be nervous. I feel my bones soften into jelly. "It's a completely normal thing that clearly both vampire's and human's get. We're not so different, after all. I get nervous myself!" _Especially in front of you_, I add mentally, too proud to say it.

"It's not nerves," he grumbles, very defensively. "It's fucking weird, is what it is. I don't get nervous. Not for anyone. The fluttering is something else. Inside my chest."

I try a different method, because he's clearly far too proud to admit it himself that he, Eric Northman, even gets occasionally nervous. "All right. When does it happen then? The fluttering?"

He sighs heavily again through his nose, and fixes his attention back on the wall across from me. He looks so reluctant to continue our conversation about this mysterious fluttering. So... disgusted and full of disbelief. "It happens mostly when..." His face scrunches up, like he can taste something sour on the tip of his tongue. I have to hold in a laugh. "...I am around you. It does not happen when I am around anyone else."

It throws me off for a second. _Holy ass. I make him fluttery? Me, and me alone_.

"You get nervous around me. It's not a big deal."

"Well, it is for me," he whispers, as if it's such a terribly disgraceful thing. "Pam thinks I'm just turning fucking soft, which I probably am. It all started, for me, the very same night you entered my office in Fangtasia. Or no..." He pauses, thinking deeply for a moment. "Maybe it was when you forced me into dancing, and then groped my fucking balls." I cringe at how casually he brings it up. Oh, boy. I want to forget that even happened. Most awkward moment ever.

I pale. He's been talking about me to his daughter?

"No human has ever touched me outright like that. You remind me of Pam, when she was still human."

"I do?" I ask, feeling doubtful. In all the times I've met Pam, I thought we were very different. For one thing, she has a potty-mouth. And secondly, she steals his credit card. I wouldn't ever take someone's card and feel personally entitled to use their money.

"Yes, you do." His eyes cloud over at some memory. "Pam did not fear me, either. She did not fear the death I presented. She's a fucking fire-cracker, but oddly enough... I like her. It doesn't mean she isn't a pain in the ass... exactly like you are."

"Oh, well. I think you're a pain in the butt, too," I tease. He compresses his lips together, and I know he is trying to hide a smile.

"I'm used to human's fearing me. The only two I've met that haven't, is Pamela and yourself. I am fucked up, because of Godric, but I didn't mind it. It enabled me to keep everyone at arm's length, so... I wouldn't have to let them in. Pamela wanted to be let in, and... look where that got her." He jerks his shoulders roughly underneath my hands. "She has me, as her Maker. She's constantly having to defend me, when Godric appears to me. She does not consider me insane. She was the only human I fucked, after Godric's passing."

I feel my stomach squirm in uneasiness. Why is he telling me this? It hardly seems like something I need to know...

"Only Pam. And then I avoided intimacy ever since that one time." The words are barely audible. "I thought that if I was angry, and human's feared getting too close... it wouldn't happen ever again. I wouldn't have to... try." These are very hard things for him to admit to me, and I can tell. I'm very pleased he is, though. "Pam was exactly everything I needed, as my Progeny. I never thought the day would come, until her. She doesn't care how fucked-up I am, with my visions, and talking to myself. She was the only human that understood, and now... she is the only vampire that possibly understands."

"I understand," I whisper weakly. "At least, I'm trying to."

"And this is what is so fucking weird," he says sharply. His hands tighten over my face a bit, in all his pent-up frustration. "Year after year, of feeling next to... nothing. Everything was so simple, and then you." His deep voice turns almost bitter, accusatory. He's back to blaming me again, and it's a great feeling. Not. "You come into my fucking bar, stepped into my office one evening, and then... everything fucking changes. I went from feeling empty to fucking... fluttering. I don't understand it. How can it change so quickly?"

"I don't know," I murmur, with the little breath I've got left, even though I know he isn't quite directing the question at me.

"You will give yourself to me?" he asks quietly, sounding unsure. Well, damn. Did I need to make myself more clear? Maybe, I do.

Without any other way to say it, I grab his face between my hands and pull his lips down to mine. He grunts a little in surprise, and I let my tongue slip into his mouth, touching his fangs with it, as I go. It definitely sends the message across, loud and clear, into his brain. Finally.

**Hope this one wasn't a disappointment. Please let me know your thoughts! I love them!**

**P.S: Sorry to leave it there, next chapter will be longer (hopefully as long as last one)! Thank you all so much for your support, it blows me away. You're all incredible and sweet :-) x**


	13. Coming Undone

**I own nothing to do with True Blood obviously. Thank you all so much, hope you enjoy this one and that it isn't terrible. I was really nervous writing this one haha! You all are really the best, thank you!**

**I'm going to go run and hide now :P**

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_**Chapter Thirteen**_

"You stand over by the wall across from me, and I'll do the same," I direct him, hating the nerves and tension in my voice. I hate that it's so obvious how I'm feeling about all of this. I can't even look him directly in the eyes, for goodness sake. "We'll take off our clothes, and then when I say to turn around, we both will."

"Why the fuck would we do that?" Eric asks, his voice low and throaty. "What's the point?"

"Because I feel like I can better prepare myself."

"Fine. Whatever you want, Perky."

If he is nervous in any way, Eric certainly isn't showing it right now. Doing what I say at once, he goes over to the wall, facing it obediently, then starts kicking off his shoes. He loses his shirt next, flinging it at his feet without a care in the world. Damn it. Why can't I be as natural as he is? Why do I have to be the one all... fluttery right now? Why can't we be equally as fluttery? Just looking at his back, I want to touch him, feel every muscle, run my hands over his bare back. It takes me a moment to realize what I'm meant to be doing. I've got a job to do myself, and that's getting stark-naked along with him.

I try to perk myself up, as I face the wall. I peel off my shirt, then unclasp my bra around my breasts. There is a whole lot of clothes rustling going on from his side of the room. I hear the buckle of his belt come undone, and then... I just can't help it. I throw a quick look over my shoulder, and I almost gasp out loud. He's halfway through pulling down his jeans, his back to me. He has a strongly shaped back, broad shoulders. Delicious. Whoa, Eric Northman goes commando. He isn't wearing any underwear, and it presents me a mighty fine sight, as he bends down to step a bit awkwardly out of his jeans.

His butt is glorious. No dimples whatsoever, on that butt. Yum. Very nice. I never knew a woman could like a man's butt so much.

"Are you staring at my ass?" he asks completely out of nowhere, startling me. Oh, shit. There's a knowing tone to his quiet voice. How the hell did he know? Unless... he has eyes on the back of his head? How creepy.

Quickly, I bring my attention back to the wall ahead of me. The wall paint certainly isn't as interesting to look at, as that butt of his is. "Um, no," I whisper, trying to sound deeply insulted. Unfortunately, all I sound, is guilty. I've been caught out, and it's not a very good feeling. My face feels hot. "I wasn't, thank you very much."

"Oh, I think you were."

"Yeah, I wasn't!" I sound way too defensive.

"Are you out of your clothes yet?" he asks, a little on the impatient side.

"Nope. Still got to take off my jeans and underwear. Oh, and my shoes."

He sighs loudly. "Then hurry the fuck up. Staring at the wall is kind of tedious."

"Yes, Mr. Grouchy Vampire."

As quickly as I possibly can, I pull off my Nikes and fling down my jeans. Ungraciously, I step out of them, as well as my underwear. Suddenly, it's freezing in my room, being exposed and nervous the way I am. I can't help but get all shivery, and I hiss through my teeth. I wrap my arms over my breasts, trying to warm myself up.

"Are you done now?" he asks from his spot over by the wall, finally bringing me back into the matter at hand.

"Oh, yes," I breathe hesitantly.

"Finally. I'm turning around now, and you better do the fucking same." I just love how threatening he sounds. Not.

_All righty, here it goes. Straighten your shoulders, Stackhouse. Be confident, despite your nakedness_. I pull my arms down to my sides, and clench my fists, my fingernails digging into my palms. I set my jaw, and work myself into breathing slowly, as I take my swift turn into the direction of his voice and where he is standing. I blink rapidly at the sight, and press my lips together, swallowing down some drool that puddles in my overly dry mouth.

_Hello, Mr. Naked Vampire. Very nice to see you. How do you do?_

If he seemed completely calm and unbothered before, now he isn't so much. He looks just as nervous as I feel, luckily. Well, it mightn't be that obvious, but there is a few tell-tale signs that I can see, loud and clear; I can see the nervous tension around his eyes, and his eyebrows are raised slightly, crumpling his forehead. His lips open slightly, as he takes in a deep and unsteady breath, puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders back a smidgen, while letting those eyes roam down the entirety of my body slowly. Eric hardly looks let-down in the slightest by me standing before him in the flesh. It's a wonderfully reassuring thing.

And, oh, the silence...

There isn't anything off-putting I imagine I would hear, had I been standing naked in front of a human man whose thoughts I can read. There isn't any inclinations of disappointment. Not any, "Damn it, she isn't as well endowed as I thought she would be. That bra definitely lead me on..." Not even a single, "Gross, she's got a bit of meat on her belly. It makes her stomach jiggle."

Just exhilarating, peaceful silence. Oh, and maybe my own, private thoughts whizzing by in my head...

The front view is just as nice as his butt was, if not scarier and shocking to take in. He's very pale and white, which you kind of have to expect, with him being a vampire and all. He's muscular and strongly built, but not excessively so, like those guys I imagine you see at the gym injecting themselves with steroids. He's just... perfectly fine. Hip indentations. Whoa mama.

"Is this what you were expecting?" he asks. Bless him, he sounds apprehensive.

I can't even begin to put it in words. I don't even know what I was expecting, honestly. But his body is above all expectations. I'm pleased as apple pie, and it's impossible to complain. Really, how can I? There really isn't a single thing to complain about.

I give out an incoherent mumble in response; It's a mortifying sound. A mixture between a flustered groan, and a high-pitched, squeaky giggle. All in all, I think it sums up how I'm feeling beautifully.

"Am I?" I manage hoarsely. "Or am I... less?"

He makes that familiar exaggerated top movement of his lip, bringing out his fangs to me. I fight not to cover my body. "I believe that explains it quite well," he says breathlessly, though I'm not quite convinced. No, it leaves me feeling majorly uncertain and confused. He thinks bringing out his fangs tells me how he feels on the sight of my bare body? I can't say it does. Unless... he's meaning he wants to bite the crap out of my body with them?

My body is good enough for him to assault it with his fangs? Is that what he means? _All righty then..._

Eric strides over to stand directly in front of me, drinking me in shamelessly, and I just don't know where to look. My eyes seem to go everywhere; To his narrow hips, and those wonderful indentations, to the way his abdominal muscles ripple as he walks. It's as if he is completely comfortable with his body, and I can't say I blame him. He is sporting one gorgeous and toned body. I guess, living for a thousand years, it gives you confidence. Seeing naked bodies is nothing new and out-of-the-ordinary for him, obviously. As for myself, I haven't seen a man naked before. I might have Googled it out of plain curiosity, sure. But I learn, extremely quickly while drinking him in myself, that it was sort of a wasted effort; Men clearly come in different shapes and sizes. How do you prepare yourself? You just can't. He's simultaneously daunting and delicious in the flesh.

"What the fuck is with your feet?" he asks, shocked. He puts his right foot near my left, comparing the two silently and their supposed differences.

"What do you mean?" I ask, a little worried. "What's wrong with my feet?"

I examine the difference myself, feeling a little lost; As far as I can see, there isn't anything all that different noticeably about our feet. We both have five toes on each foot. His feet are just... larger than mine, putting mine to shame.

"Midget feet," he informs me casually.

I don't know whether to laugh, or whether to be insulted. When I steal a brief look at his face, I can tell he means it in a playful way. "Well, at least I don't have giant ogre feet," I joke, trying to keep a straight face while I'm at it, which is mighty hard. I can't believe we're talking about our feet, of all things, while standing around naked. Too weird.

He leans back a fraction, astonished. He's trying to keep a straight face himself. "Ogre feet? My feet have never been called that before..."

Playfully and deliberately, I stomp on his foot with mine, digging my toes into his skin, then quickly back away from him, swinging mine out of range before he can do the same.

"Delikat," he mutters appreciatively underneath his breath, still unnecessarily fixated on my feet and toes. I can tell he is not entirely speaking in English; His voice takes on an odd lilting accent, as he pronounces the word, with a swift roll of his tongue.

"Are you saying my feet look edible enough to be chopped off and sold in a deli?" I tease, purposefully misunderstanding him.

He makes a deep grumbling noise from the very back of his throat. He seems to be considering my light-hearted taunt far too seriously. "Now isn't that an idea," he mumbles.

"Don't you dare," I warn him, unnerved to the heavens.

He finally brings his attention away from my feet and gazes up at me, puzzled. It's almost as if this is an ordinary, day-to-day thing for him, having a woman standing before him naked. "You look cold," he says, scrutinizing my breasts a little far too carefully, after a beat. "Let's get into your bed." _Lord, am I that obvious?_ I'm certainly not shivering that hard. At least, I don't think I am.

My nerves ease at that suggestion. I'm none the happier to hop into my bed, because it means I can conceal myself under the sheets. Maybe a little too enthusiastically, I stroll over to my bed, pull back the sheets, and slide right in, burrowing into the warmth the sheets present on my exposed skin. _Ah, that's better..._

He stands at the foot of my bed, and it's a bit odd, being naked the way he is. I can hardly believe this is actually happening. Eric Northman, in my bedroom, without clothes on. Wow.

I open up the sheet to him, hopefully seeming inviting. "Well, come on in. Don't just stand there."

Without further ado, he slides in, rubbing his feet and ankles up against mine.

"Jesus!" I have to stifle a shriek. "Your ogre feet are icy cold!"

He gives out a shaky laugh. "Well, what do you fucking expect?" he breathes unevenly, his eyes holding mine intently. He gets up onto his knees, well, at least... I'm assuming he is, since I can't see what's going on underneath the sheets, and hovers over me, carefully placing them in between my legs. At first, I haven't the slightest clue what's happening, until he spreads his knees slowly, pushing my thighs wider apart. The realization sinks in quickly, and I feel close to having a panic attack of some sort.

We're getting straight down to business. No nonsense here. Gotta appreciate that.

His glistening blue eyes hold mine intensely, as he places his hands near each side of my head, and leans down. It's the most alien feeling in the world to have a man's entire body pressing into yours, and it's freezing. I gasp, and wriggle around a bit.

"Oh, my." I bring my hands around his back, rubbing around helplessly, trying to spread some of my warmth. "Why are you so cold?"

"I am a vampire," he says simply, by way of explanation. Well, no shit.

"Oh, are you?" I blink up at him, feigning shock. "It completely slipped my mind. Is that what those things are? Those long things that look like fangs? What a revelation!"

Shifting on his elbows, he slides down deeper unapologetically underneath the sheets, and lays the side of his face against my chest. Even his ear is ice cold, as he presses it into my collar bone. What the hell is he doing? I lean up propped on my elbows, and peer down at him questioningly. He has his eyes tightly closed, and he appears to be concentrating hard on something, lost in his own private world. I haven't the slightest clue what he's doing.

"What-?" I begin nervously.

"Sssh," he cuts me off.

I lay my head back against the pillow, resigned, staring up at the ceiling, letting him have his moment.

"I can hear it," Eric whispers hoarsely, after what feels like hours have gone by.

I sit up on my elbows again. "Hear what?"

"Your heart beating." At true last, he lifts the side of his face away from my collar-bone, and looks up at me, examining my face. He licks around his fangs slowly. "What do you fucking think?" he asks dryly.

"Well, I don't know," I mumble petulantly, shrugging. "It isn't everyday a vampire puts their ear to my chest. I thought you were maybe listening to my blood, or something, and trying to stop yourself from eating me."

He shakes in silent laughter, sending the mattress and my body trembling.

"Oh, shut up." I swat him lightly across the forehead with my hand. He makes a noise and bends into my touch. "What was I supposed to think?" I brush my fingers through his hair. It's surprisingly soft and in peak condition for an undead man. Shiny, too. No split ends in sight. "You know, for a thousand-year old... I'd _at least_ expect you to have grey hairs in there somewhere..."

"Is there any?"

"Nope. Well, not any that I can see anyhow."

He passes a hand over his face. "Good," he grumbles, relieved. "Pam does it for me."

"She does your hair?" Why does that amuse me so much?

"Yes, she does." He looks a bit embarrassed to admit it. "She likes to put foils in it, and cut it and all that shit. Her version of therapy, besides buying clothes."

"Wow." Vampire's put foils in their hair. How funny. "She puts foils in your hair to cover up the grey?"

"I don't have any fucking grey hairs," he says harshly, and runs his hands over his hair self-consciously. Boy, oh, boy. He's touchy on the subject of his hair. Another thing to add to the list...

"Well, all right. If you say so. No need to get cranky at me."

"I'm not. I'm just... fluttering. It's annoying."

Fluttering. There he goes again... I know by that now, that he means just nerves. He's just far too... haughty to admit to it. Maybe he feels getting nervous around someone is a bad thing? It's a perfectly natural thing, though. Pity he couldn't see it that way.

"Everybody get's nervous at the best of times."

"It's not fucking nerves," he argues, exactly like I'm expecting he would.

I can't help but grin brightly down at him. I know better, and I guess that's all that matters.

Eric comes back up, surprising me, and puts a hand around the back of my neck, squeezing down. I swallow dryly. It isn't all that hard, it isn't painful, but it's enough pressure he's asserting down on the nape of my neck to make me feel slightly light-headed and woozy. He places his face near mine, resting the side of it against the pillow. His lips part, and I can feel him breathing gently on me.

"You are beautiful for a human," he says, his voice low and sincere.

I can't believe my ears. Did he really just dare to say that? Or have I heard wrong? "Huh?" I cup a hand over my ear, pretending to mishear him. "What was that?"

"You heard me. I will not fucking repeat myself."

"I didn't hear you, just then." I compress my lips together, fighting back a smile. "Can you say it again? Maybe a bit louder for me?"

He sighs loudly through his nostrils. "Pam was right. I _am_ turning fucking soft." He releases the back of my neck and pushes away from me, much to my dismay. He rolls onto his back and peers up at the ceiling silently, his mouth pulled down into a revolted frown. I'm smiling so hard to myself, I feel like any... second... now, my cheeks are going to bruise. "This is disgusting," he sighs unevenly through his mouth, and brings his hands up to his face. He runs them over his forehead before palming his eyes wearily.

"Well, I think it's sweet myself, personally," I admit honestly._ But then again, I'm stating the obvious, really..._

He grabs fistfuls of his hair and brings his eyes back to mine warily. "Do you, now?"

"I damn well do." There's no sense in denying it, after all.

A startling, odd look comes across his face in a split second, and he sits up hurriedly and peers at something distractedly over my shoulder. There's a bleak, shiny shift in his blue eyes, and his entire body goes rigid, with tension. "What?" he whispers tightly, tensing his jaw. "What do you mean?" I turn over and look myself, but then there's... no one? "I can't hear this, Godric." His eyes moisten and glaze over. "You appear to me, and _this_ is what you reveal to me? _This_?" His voice is getting dangerously louder and louder by the second, and I know he's coming precariously close to yelling. "I don't even understand! You told me this was _weak_, and _now_ you're telling me otherwise?"

It isn't very good. Not when my Grandmother is probably sleeping in the other room. What if she overhears him shouting, and comes to investigate? My Granny would not be a very happy camper, to say the least.

"Eric," I whisper frantically. "Sssh."

With desperation on my side, I grab his face tightly in my hands and give him a little shake. It seems to take him out of the moment with his Godric wonderfully. He closes his eyes abruptly, his expression softens from the immediate anger Godric has brought onto him, but he's still breathing harshly. His entire body is trembling.

I mightn't know what his father said to him in his vision, but obviously it wasn't something he was keen on hearing.

"I don't understand," he breathes to me urgently, and his voice is hollow and empty. "I don't understand." He repeats it over and over, shaking his head compulsively. I can't say I understand myself. But I can't stand seeing him like this. It hurts my heart, my head, everything... He mumbles something underneath his breath, in that unknown language I heard before. (Car-lick, it sounds like? What is that supposed to mean?) "...How is that possible? I never knew I could?"

"Look, Eric," I whisper, aiming to sound as calm as I possibly can. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do in this situation. What the hell am I meant to do? I'm merely reduced to caressing his face helplessly with my hands and fingers. There just isn't any reasonable sense in the whole damn thing at all. "I can't understand what's happening myself. Does this usually happen when Godric...?" I falter, feeling my throat tighten.

It wasn't this bad as the first time I saw him experience his vision down in that horrible, damp basement in Fangtasia. No, this time it was almost hundreds worse, because of his reaction... I can feel the rage, confusion, and upset radiating off him almost palpably.

He doesn't bother replying to ease my mind, damn him; He squeezes his eyes closed, his forehead creasing, lips pinching tight, as he breathes deeply through his nose. I just don't know what to do at all. Powerless, I work at smoothing out some of the stubborn lines creasing his forehead with my fingers, rubbing around. All and nothing works. When I stroke around his eyelids gently with my fingertips, something wet and sticky comes away.

I inspect the tips of my fingers curiously. Something a deep red, resembling blood a whole lot. Is his... eyes bleeding?

"Oh," I gasp, feeling the panic surge wildly. "Eric, I... I think you got blood coming out of your eye-balls. Are you all right?"

At that, I finally get a reaction out of him. His eyes pop open, and, along with it, blood trickles slowly down his cheeks in a thin stream. _Oh, Eric. Why are you bleeding?_ _Poor darling._ My mouth goes dry, and I have to force several swallows down. Maybe it takes him a belated moment to realize he has blood leaking out of his eye-balls himself, because quickly, he touches his cheek and inspects the blood soaking his fingers, with a mixture of both wonder and embarrassment. His eyes widen fearfully, and then, scaring me half to death, he gives out an unexpectedly loud sniffle and turns his back on me, as if afraid that he has blood leaking out of his eye-balls himself; Finally, an understandable reaction out of him.

He climbs out of the sheets and plops down onto the end of the bed heavily, giving himself distance from me. I'm far too concerned to even begin to appreciate the rear-view image it presents me of his body. Something clearly isn't right. Something isn't right... with him. Of course, while he isn't the most simplest vampire to understand and get along with, I haven't seen him like this. Never like this. It's depressing and scary.

"Should I go get my car running?" I ask, my voice coming out small and shaky. "I can take you to the hospital? I wouldn't mind it. I... I just want to make sure you're all right?"

"Sookie," Eric says tonelessly, his back still to me.

"Yes?"

"I don't need you to take me to the fucking hospital. It isn't necessary."

"How can you not need to go to the damn hospital?" I hiss indignantly, my voice breaking. "You're bleeding in your eyes! We need to get you to a hospital like yesterday! Don't you dare tell me it isn't necessary!"

"Do I need to puncture my ego even more in front of you?" he growls, sending a swift punch into the side of the mattress. I yelp, startled, clutching the sheet over me. I certainly wasn't expecting that from him.

Eric groans deeply, and buries his face into his hands. I stare at him uncertainly for a few minutes while he sits there, still as anything, undecided. Should I move closer, or should I just sit here? I know he deliberately moved to the end of the bed to get some distance between us. Perhaps he doesn't want me anywhere near him right now?

Thinking to hell with it, I scoot down the mattress closer towards him with my feet, bringing the sheet along with me to keep toasty warm and my body hidden. Once an inch or so near his back, tentatively I reach out with my hand and clasp his shoulder comfortingly. To my horror, he's shaking greatly. What has gotten him into such a state?

"Are you all right?" I ask gently, hopefully in a soothing voice. Stretching out my arm as far as it will possibly go, I rake my fingers through the back of his blonde hair. He groans into his hands again; a guttural sound. "I still think I should take you to the hospital. Bleeding from your eyes... it... it can't be normal, can it? Do you get that a lot?"

His shifts slightly on the end of the mattress and turns back to glance at me over his shoulder. The bleeding has gotten worse over just a few minutes, and it makes my heart pinch painfully. He quickly avoids my eyes, gazing at my hand that is clutching the blanket to me instead, as if ashamed. Why on earth would he be ashamed? "I'm crying, Sookie." I feel my face drain of all color._ He's crying? But what of all the blood?_ "There, I've said it." He turns away from me again, and I see him wipe his face on the back of his hands. "I'm fucking crying. Are you happy now that you understand?"

"But..." I shake my head, at a loss.

"It happens for vampires, when we cry. Don't tell of this to anyone."

I feel my body sag slightly in relief. The tension leaves me wonderfully. Well, almost. He isn't hurt. He's... hurt in another way. Not physically. Mentally, maybe? Vampire's cry out blood? Well, I'll be damned. I never knew. No wonder he's reacting like this, though; So eager to get away from me, and shield his face from me. He's like most men, I'm presuming. Exactly like my brother, Jason. He would rather get run over by a truck, than cry in front of me. I'm guessing Eric was the same, then.

"Oh," I whisper sadly, once the realization fully settles in. He's crying.

He sighs and twists his head back to look at me again, frowning. "Do not pity me, please."

"I guess you're like most men," I mutter confidently, getting to my feet, making sure to wrap the blanket around me completely. He stiffens at my approach, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. It's like a slap in the face once I reach him and stand around near his knees; He looks so depressed and forlorn, as he blinks up at me. "You don't very much like crying in front of women, and showing your vulnerable side. I get that."

He takes in a deep breath. "I am not vulnerable." He refuses to look at me; He stares down at his hands, as he clasps them out in front of his knees. Still so embarrassed. It's so silly.

"It won't change my opinion of you," I tell him reassuringly. He rolls his eyes, and sniffles again. "I just... hate this, frankly. I hate seeing you like this. Hurting this way." My throat tightens again, and I feel I'm close to crying myself, which isn't very good. I couldn't stand it if I cried in front of him again, like a hysterical girl. "I wish I knew why you are hurting the way you are. I'd very much like to help you, but... I can't if you won't let me."

"I don't need your help," he says venomously. "I am not a charity case."

"And I never said you was," I reply tartly.

"The grief is my own," he whispers, his voice a bit uneven. I almost get to thinking he is on the verge of crying again, but he holds it in admirably. "What good would it do in sharing it with you? I have lived for a thousand; I have experienced many losses. I'm positive I can manage on my own."

"Well, fine." I'm affronted. Not to mention a tad disappointed. "Suit yourself," I add, mocking him. I sit down next to him, being sure to keep all my lady-parts covered in the blanket. We sit for a few good minutes, neither one of us bothering to talk. He keeps avoiding me, and I hate it deeply that he is. "You know what I like to do when I'm upset?" I ask him.

He darts me an odd look. "What?"

"Wrong answer. You know damn good and well already!" I give him a shy smile, and get to my feet.

And then I turn, bend down, and give him a hug, hard.

It surprises him, and he leans back as I push all my weight into him, but he ought to have already known. Wasn't I just crying to him a few hours ago on the porch? Didn't I attack him with a hug then? I just love that I continuously keep him guessing, and when I release him the sheet slides off my shoulders, much to my embarrassment.

"Whoops," I gasp, reaching down to fling it over my body again. His lips part as he takes in a sharp breath, clearly shocked at my sudden accidental exposure himself, and I can see he still has his fangs out. _They haven't gone anywhere; those trusty, sharp friends of his. _I narrow my eyes at him. "You know, I can always torture you into confiding in me. After what we did tonight with the Vampire Bill, I'd say I'm getting pretty good at it."

Finally, I succeed in lightening up his bleak mood. He ducks his head and fixes his eyes on his hands again, trying to hide his amusement. What is he thinking so deeply about? Damn vampire. I truly wish I could read him. It would do wonders in working out what he is all about...

"I'd like to see you fucking try against a thousand-year-old vampire like myself. You have nothing on me, Perky. Absolutely _nothing_. Jack-shit."

Oh, that sounds like a dare. I love dares.

Boldly- and I haven't the slightest idea where it comes from, either- I toss the blanket off my shoulders. It takes a fleeting second to regain my confidence with being naked in front of him, but I think I manage well. I grab him by the shoulders and lie him back forcefully on the bed, enjoying his humorous confusion all the while. I climb over him on my knees, my legs at his sides, and place my hands on the mattress an inch or so above his shoulders. Eric blinks up at me, bewildered, and gives out a very nice, gruff moan when I run my hands over his chest. It's a very empowering feeling to know I can somehow hold my own against this vampire- as far as being sexual goes.

His eyes don't leave mine as I bend down slowly over him to kiss him. I kiss around his cheeks, very slowly and gently, at the still damp blood marking them. Each and every single time my lips meet his much cooler skin, he makes a low noise deep in his throat. I pause to glance down at him, feeling a chill break out all over my skin. He looks about ready to bite the crap out of me, in a very animalistic and dark way.

"You have my fucking blood on your lips now," he informs me, sounding oddly excited and moved by that.

"Do I?" Purposefully, I smack my lips together, and bring out my tongue. I can definitely taste it, sure enough. Dry blood. I try my very hardest to ignore the churning feeling in my stomach. "What about now? Still there?"

"Cocky move, teasing a vampire who hasn't had sex in years." He sits up suddenly, so that our noses are almost touching, and grabs the back of my neck, angling my head forward. I flinch, grabbing his shoulders roughly. He puts his mouth near mine, breathing unevenly all over my skin. "Not very smart, though, Perky."

_What a way to throw myself in with the sharks._


	14. Conquering

**First, I own nothing to do with True Blood. I am just a huge fan of the Sookie/Eric pairing, like the majority of people are.**

**Thank you all so much for your reviews, and response to the story. I really appreciate it, and it gets me so excited about updating. I never dreamed that anyone would like my writing, I always feel embarrassed about it, but surprisingly you all seem to enjoy the story. So, thank you a billion times! I try to update twice a week, as it's the only times I get to use my laptop, so I apologize for the wait. And, I hope this one isn't a disappointment. Love you all very much, you're all amazing!**

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_**Chapter Fourteen**_

"Why do you continuously call me that?"

"What?" he asks, taken aback.

"You know..." I can't even utter it without keeping a silly smile off my face. "Perky."

He contemplates that for a silent moment, thinking deeply. "Because that is what you are." His voice is quiet, deadly serious. "You're fucking... perky." Oddly enough, I quite enjoy him calling me that. _Hey, it certainly beats Perky Blood-Bag, any day of the week... Somehow, Perky is a far decent nick-name in my opinion._

"What? So, you're not referring to the state of my breasts?" I tease, before thinking through completely what I'm saying. How rude of me, how... _dirty_.

Much to my embarrassment, it brings his attention to them, and he looks at my chest for a long and hard, shameless moment. I grip the mattress underneath me, digging my nails in, willing myself not to squirm underneath his careful and downright brazen scrutiny of my body. It feels so... weird, not having any clothes or my nightgown on, especially in front of another person. It's hard to hold a decent conversation, hard to concentrate, especially when he is lying at my side, equally as naked. It's even worse knowing that the sheet is still on the floor, neglected, when it could be put to good use in covering myself up. As far as he is concerned, he could lay there naked all he wants; I could happily stare at his body all night, into next week. He has a very, very attractive body.

He licks his lips slowly, bringing his eyes back up to meet mine. His eyes glisten faintly with amusement in the light. "I think those could definitely be considered perky, also." _How does he say stuff like that, with a completely straight face? Beats me._

"You think so?" I whisper, uncertainly.

He shifts on the mattress on his side slightly to get closer to me. Reaching down, he runs a hand up my side, grazing the thigh closest to him, to my hip. I give out a sigh, unable to control it.

"Fuck, yes."_ Why is that filthy talk somewhat... sexy to me right now? Must be the fact he hasn't got any clothes on. _"Those are a beautiful pair of breasts," he mutters, very appreciatively. Holy hell. Eric Northman is complimenting me. How sweet.

"You know, you can... um, touch them, if you want to?" I suggest timidly. I curse myself inwardly. I haven't the slightest clue what I'm saying- or doing, for that matter. All I know, is that I would hardly mind, if he did.

"Oh, I might just do that."

He turns and gets up on his knees, sitting back on his thighs and ankles. An intensely concentrated look comes across his features, as he stares down at my breasts again. I'm a bit stunned by how serious he looks; He's getting himself all warmed up mentally to touch my breasts. His mouth presses into a thin line, and I can hear him breathing loudly and shallowly. What's that all about? Is it really that hard?

"I am going to touch you now, Perky," he says, his voice filled with nervous tension, as though he feels it is necessary to warn me in some way. Really, it isn't needed; My breasts are literally aching to be touched and caressed already. "Last human I touched was several nights ago, cracking his fucking ribs... Not like this." He lets loose an uneven breath, his fangs greeting me from under his top lip disconcertingly. "Never like this. I'm probably a little rusty." I guess it explains why he looks so fierce and concentrated then, like he's embarking on one demanding mission. Doesn't he touch human's like this, at all? With a little bit of tenderness? Clearly not. Not sure how I'm meant to feel on that...

_ He tells me that in a moment like this? Jesus Christ Almighty._

Without warning, he goes and does it. He full-on reaches out and grabs my left breast greedily, squeezing down far too tightly with his fingertips around my nipple. My back arches at its own accord, my breathing races, and I wriggle a bit, fighting back a whimper. Yep, he clearly hasn't touched a human softly in quite some time. He sports a very rough touch, and unable to help it, I make a very pained noise.

"Jesus," I gasp and groan. "Can't you be a little more gentle? It feels like you're trying to tear it off, or something..." I laugh out loud uneasily.

He releases my breast quickly, and rests his hand on his knee. _Damn it, I never meant that he had to stop touching me._

"You don't touch human's like this?" It's a fairly easy assumption to make. It's obvious he doesn't.

"No, I don't." He looks incredibly frustrated. "Show me how, then," he urges, a little on the desperate side. Well, that throws me for a second. Show him? How the hell do I possibly show him? But then, after a moment of hesitancy, I think I get it. Oh! He wants me to demonstrate how I want him to touch me. I'm more than merry to lead the way, truth be told, so long as I get some gentle loving with those hands of his.

"Like this," I breathe uneasily, taking his hand in mine. Slowly, I turn his hand around, bring it down, and place it over my right breast gently, letting his fingers press down lightly into my skin. "That's much better," I smile at him, because it's obvious to me that he needs all the positive reinforcement he can get right now.

"So, you like it like this?" he whispers, running his fingers lightly over my breast, and back up again, like he's stroking the fur of a kitten, rather than supple and warm flesh. I find myself disliking how cold his fingers are right about now. It's the oddest sensation imaginable.

I shake my head. "I haven't the slightest clue what I like exactly," I admit to him, a bit hesitantly. I'm surprised by how different my voice sounds, taking on a different edge while he rubs his fingers over the peak of my nipple. It sounds unfamiliar to me, laced with aching desire, and... nervous. "After all, I've never done something like this before. Not with anyone, but I... I know it feels good, being touched like this. Gently. Carefully."

"I only bother to touch human's during my interrogations. They're good for nothing else, but that," he says, his voice coming out low and dreamy.

"Interrogations?" I croak out.

"Physical violence is surprisingly quite telling, when it comes to you human's. It gets the job done well. Not to mention, it feels fucking great."

Oh, my. "Why on earth would you interrogate people?"

"It is expected of me, as Sheriff," he explains, far too carelessly for my liking. Now I really don't know what to think about all of this. I'm letting this vampire touch me, somewhat intimately, and yet he isn't used to this, because he uses physical force mainly?

I peer down at his hand nervously, watching what he's doing to my breast; Caressing it with the lightest of finger strokes, circling around. Who knows what those same hands and fingers have been responsible for? A whole lot of bloodshed, and agony, probably? I squirm a little in uneasiness underneath his hand.

His fingers still from his inventory, as he peers at me deeply. "Is this becoming uncomfortable on you?" he asks, sounding surprisingly concerned.

"I don't know," I mumble, shrugging.

"If it is, you shouldn't hesitate to tell me. If I am being too fucking rough, tell me that, too. It's been a... very long time, since I have done something such as this. But you already fucking know that."

He's being surprisingly kind and thoughtful for a vampire Sheriff who tortures people like me on probably what most likely is a nightly basis. I just can't understand how he says unpleasant things like that, while daring to touch me, like this. Is it supposed to make me feel good, or better about any of this?

He gets to his knees again, and moves, climbing down towards my legs on the mattress. What's he doing now? Good Lord. This is crazy.

Without taking his eyes off me, he grabs my right foot in his hands, and lifts it a fraction, setting it between his muscular thighs. "Your skin..." he breathes quietly, and then slowly, he glides his hands up over my foot, my shin, my calve. "Your golden skin makes me almost miss the sunlight."

"Miss the sunlight?" I'm breathless. "What do you mean by that?"

"It isn't possible for me to go into the fucking sun." He brings my foot up to his mouth slowly, holding my gaze brazenly. He presses his lips into the side of my foot, and then brings out his tongue. Oh, boy. The tingles infect me, dangerously in a lethal and warm dose. This is pretty erotic stuff for a girl who hasn't ever had sex before, and the fact it's a vampire doing it to me... whoa, it's mind-blowing.

"Oh," I gasp, sounding like a girl very much enjoying herself. I'm starting to hate my ignorance on all things vampire. "What happens if you do? Will you burst into flames, or... fizzle straight into ash?"

"Not quite, at first." He breathes deeply into my skin, his voice all throaty and deep. "It is incredibly painful, simply just trying to make the attempt."

I frown sympathetically at him. "You must hate that, not being able to get out into the sunlight? I know I would!" I try to imagine what it's like, never going out in the sun again. I don't think I would do very well. I like sitting out in the sun and tanning away, getting brown. I'd hate not being able to do it. "Do you miss it?"

He shrugs dismissively. I realize it's pretty much a ridiculous question, because, _of course_ he would. Who wouldn't?

"What do you do then, if you can't go out in the sun? Do you just wait around indoors, 'till it goes down?"

He huffs out a breath, oddly enough sounding like he is trying to conceal a bitter snicker. "I used to sleep in my coffin during the daylight hours. Now... sleeping has become quite limited for me. A rarity."

"Oh." So he doesn't have regular sleeping patterns like us regular human's do? Then again, no wonder you don't see any vampire's out and about during the day. They hide from the sun, and sleep. "You have difficulty sleeping?" Vampire's can suffer from insomnia, apparently. "Does... uhm, Godric keep you up most of the time?" I'm hoping he doesn't mind me asking that, but I catch his shoulders stiffen with me bringing up his name into the conversation. Godric is definitely still a sensitive topic for him.

"No, it isn't due to... _that_ at all." He lifts my foot up again by the heel and, again, not taking his eyes off mine, he runs his tongue over the pad of my heel. Holy crap. Did he just lick me? Well, that was odd. Not to mention, not completely all that unpleasant. "I ruminate on things. I'm constantly thinking lately." He plops my foot back down on the mattress, and quickly looks away from me. Mr. Embarrassed is back in full-swing. "That, and fucking fluttering."

I lift myself up onto my elbows and stare at him, amused. "You know it's just nerves, right?"

He scoffs, still avoiding me. "It isn't fucking nerves."

"Fine, then. Deny it all you want. But I know that's what it is." I have to stifle a big, old grin, when he shoots me a very stern look of warning, a look that, quite frankly, makes me feel hot and bothered all over. I don't know why it is, but... something about him looking at me in an angry and defensive light... it just turns me into mush. I'm definitely crazy. "Don't you go looking at me like that," I say underneath my breath.

He leans down over me swiftly, placing his hands on each side of my head. I can tell its meant to be his way of intimidating me and cornering me into a hard and sticky place. "Like what?" He scrunches up his nose and pulls up his top lip, giving me a full-frontal of those fangs.

I press my lips together, trying not to giggle. "What _the hell_ was that?"

He blinks down at me in astonishment, before doing it again. "Is it scaring you?" he asks gruffly through his fangs.

"Nope. It's kind of... cute, actually."

"Cute?" I've definitely gone and said the wrong thing. He raises an eyebrow at me in disbelief, then shakes his head. "It isn't supposed to be fucking cute. This is my infamous look." He puts his face an inch or so near mine, and goes and does the ridiculous nose-scrunching thing again, bearing his fangs at me. I swallow audibly. It is slightly intimidating if you're real close up to it, like he is. He looks very... dark and vicious, in a sense. "I make people shit themselves with this look. This is how I looked to prevent that hill-billy from stabbing you. It truly doesn't scare you?" He definitely looks wounded, and disappointed, probably because I'm not reacting to it by screaming at the top of my lungs or peeing myself, no doubt.

"Well, I'm never gonna be one of those people," I tell him confidently. And it's the truth. "You don't scare me! Not a single look is ever gonna change that!" I run my eyes down his chest, deliberately slow, drinking him in all over again. "Especially not naked with that body, like you are, anyhow..."

He wraps his hand over the back of mine and guides it downwards between us. I take in a deep breath, calming myself, when he makes me touch him... right there. Good Lord. "Do you fucking like it?" He sounds apprehensive again. How silly.

"I do. It's a very... nice body," I admit honestly, not quite looking him directly in the eye. How can you when someone is making you touch their you-know-what?

"Which part do you like?" he breathes, sounding very interested in knowing.

I feel my cheeks redden, as it dawns onto me that, yep, he has an erection, and I'm touching it. Never in my entire life did I dream I would be feeling a man's erection, nor did I a vampire's, no less. Still, it's somewhat relieving to know I have that much of an effect. I turn him on. That's always good to know, right?

"Your... your butt," I blab, still not looking. I fix my eyes on the ceiling instead.

"My ass?" I can hear the singing outrage in his voice. "You like my fucking ass?" I can't tell whether he is truly offended or not.

"Well, it's a very nice butt. What can I say? I like the whole package."

"The whole package?" It's definitely growing harder to concentrate. "That's a shitty thing to say. Everybody has one thing they like more than the other." The blood pounds in my ears, when he moves his hand, making my fingers touch him more firmly. A deep groan escapes his mouth. "What of this, though?" he asks, and I have no doubts whatsoever that he is hinting to it.

"Yes, it's nice," I murmur breathlessly, for lack of a better word.

"Nice?" The outrage is still there. "That's it? Fucking nice?"

"I think you're fishing for compliments, and I got to say, I'm not the best judge on things like this. I've never even seen one before in the flesh, so what am I meant to say?"

"Nice is pretty insulting for something like this." And he wraps my fingers around him, holding him tight in my hand, making his point very clear.

"It's more than nice," I breathe out uneasily, shocked. "I am deeply sorry I insulted your manly parts in calling them just nice. I will from now on refer to it as a mighty powerful weapon fit for a Viking Warrior. Is that better?"

"Mighty powerful weapon fit for a Viking?" he repeats, sounding amused and astonished. "I fucking like that." He grunts further his approval. I cannot believe we are talking about this. "As for now, this mighty powerful weapon is good to go."

_Oh, goodness. Here we go._

"I'm ready if you are," I tell him, my voice tight and anxious. "I hope you brought some, uhm, condoms... because I definitely don't have any on me." Worst moment ever; Talking to Eric Northman about condoms. God come smite me and put me out of my misery, please!

He barks out a short laugh, like I'm so endearing to him, and lets me have my hand all to myself again. Phew. And if he does so-happen to have any condoms on him, he certainly doesn't get them. Instead, he parts his knees a bit, widening mine along with it. I'm so nervous, my entire body is shaking. My hands especially. I'm shaking in my boots, and for the first time, I feel truly scared of him. Not in a way that he probably likes; I'm mainly scared because it's my first time, and I don't know what to expect.

"You are trembling," he says, noticing it himself.

I close my eyes tightly, and try to remember how to breathe. "Sorry. I'm nervous as all hell."

"Yeah, I've noticed." He, in contrast, sounds like a completely calm and carefree man. How unfair. "We don't need condoms, Perky. I can't fucking impregnate you." I hate that he has to tell me even that.

"Oh, well. That's a relief to know, because I sure as hell don't want to have any vampire babies springing out of my belly anytime soon."

He puts a hand around my neck, lifting me off the pillow slightly. I feel his mouth near mine. "Mmm, babies," he murmurs against my lips quietly, in a very hungry way. _Babies? What the hell?_ He kisses me, a slow and tentative kiss. I have to work a bit to get into kissing him back, but after a moment, it becomes easier, everything falls into place as I let my tongue touch his, and my nerves slowly decrease. I wish they would go away altogether, but you can't have everything you wanted, now, can you? His thumb strokes my neck, as he deepens the kiss, sinking me into the pillow.

Hmmm. Kissing with him is quite nice. Now this, I can definitely handle. I'm not sure how I'll go with everything else, though.

"How much is this going to hurt?" I ask, feeling a bit shy and breathless, as I gaze up at him. Why do I have to feel so nervous right now? I'm supposing it's normal, though.

He raises his eyebrows at me, and licks his top lip. "You're asking me?" he asks wryly. Raising a hand slowly, he reaches down and runs his fingertips down the side of my cheek. I melt against him, feeling readier than ever, spurred on by his gentle and somewhat reassuring caress. "If there was a refresher course on this, I would take it within a heartbeat." His lips lift slightly in astonishment, and his fangs glare at me. "I feel like a fucking virgin again myself."

"Do you remember the first time you did this, as a human?" Boy, oh, boy. What a question to ask when we're getting ready to do the deed. Funnily enough, he hardly seems as if he minds one bit. He seems real proud of himself.

"I do, actually, Perky." He smiles down at me, a bit on the wistful side. "She was older. Much older. She saw me playing out by the sea, as a young man. She propositioned me one evening, and we had sex behind my father's cattle shed. I was fifteen, I believe. She taught me everything I needed to know on how to please a woman. Little did I know, when Godric passed, it was kind of fucking pointless from thereon."

Holy hell. He lost his virginity at fifteen? That's young. And the lady, she was older. What a cradle-snatcher.

"Your first time was at fifteen?" I whisper nervously in disbelief. Jesus, it's pretty young, though. "You were only a little baby."

"You are not a man, until you experience what it is truly like to have a woman between your legs." _And, right now, that woman was me. _As if to further illustrate that, he grasps my thighs and brings my legs up, until my feet and ankles hook around the back of his thighs. He places his hands on either side of my head, resting them on the pillow, and without warning, lifts himself over me. His eyes hold mine, as he takes in a deep breath, and he positions himself near my entrance.

_ And here we go..._

He pushes into me gently, makes a deep and incoherent noise, and it's the very last thing I'm expecting, as far as feelings go.

I'm holding my breath. I'm pinching my eyes tightly closed. Why does it have to feel so uncomfortable, so invasive?

"Fuck," he whispers gently, and I can hear him trying to hold in a delighted laugh. "Are you all right?"

I try to give a little nod, and force a tight-lipped smile for him.

"Look at me," he says softly, and I'm shocked by how concerned and caring he is right now. I certainly wasn't expecting this from him. "Sookie, fucking look up at me."

Feeling unbearably afraid, I force my eyelids open, and gaze up at him. I can feel his body trembling in all his restraint. He's forcing himself to be still, holding himself back. I bring my hand up and twist my fingers through the soft hairs on the nape of his neck, just for something to cling onto, and he groans deeply as he stares down at me, and there's a shocking amount of desire in his eyes for me, and warmth, and concern.

He may be a frightening and intimidating vampire to other people. But, to me, right now, he's the most caring and patient vampire in the world.

He closes his eyes slowly, and leans his head forward to rest his forehead against mine, and then brings his hands up to my face, grabbing at my cheeks, and stroking around my lips with his thumb. Parting my lips slightly, I catch the tip of his thumb in between my two front teeth, and nip at him. He grunts and jerks in surprise, and I guess that's all he needs as far as the green-light to proceed.

He eases back with deliberate slowness, and my hand tightens in his hair, as he thrusts into me, again, and again relentlessly and unapologetically. At first, I lay there, dazed, while he does it, trying to get used to what was happening and what he was doing, and then I learn how to respond in earnest.

"Please," I groan desperately into his shoulder, and I fasten my arms around his neck. And he seems more the merrier to grant me my wish.

He grabs the back of my thighs, guiding me and leading the way, and I learn the way to move my hips to meet his. Something builds up inside me, a glorious, weightless feeling, something very big and powerful, and I never knew it could feel quite this wonderful, sex with someone. I grab onto his shoulders for dear life, and he rocks over me, and my fingernails dig into his skin, and then everything crumbles around us. The walls are shaking- or maybe that's my body? As he finds his own climax, he cries out my name, mingled with that foreign language I don't understand, and stills dramatically. He thrusts the side of his face into the crook of my neck, I can feel him grinning into my skin, and it feels alarmingly hotter in temperature than it was before.

So suddenly, I feel in the mood for sleeping. I try to keep my heavy eyes open, as I listen to the pair of us breathing at a same, exhausted rate. _Hot damn. That felt surprisingly good, as far as first times go._

Eventually, as both of our breathing calms down, Eric shifts slowly on his elbows and lifts his head out from my neck. He appears extremely satisfied with what we just did, and it pleases me greatly.

"Was that all right for you?" I ask, feeling foolishly worried, when he doesn't say anything for a long moment. He simply stares down at me, taking me all in, with his bright eyes. "I wasn't really sure what I was meant to do." I laugh out loud nervously. "I let you take the lead, because I...I just didn't know..." I'm definitely blabbing, but I just don't know what I'm supposed to say. I mean, what are you supposed to say after experiencing something like that with someone?

"You were fucking wonderful," he whispers, and I can tell he means it, by the way his deep voice goes all trembly and low with emotion. His eyes glisten, and I can see that familiar redness gathering in the corners of them. _Oh, no. The blood's coming again. I don't think I can handle it another time. _"Fucking hell," he groans to himself, and I know he is mighty embarrassed again by his waterworks in front of me. "What the fuck is wrong with me tonight?" He covers his eyes with his hands, and his strong fingers tremble, as he rubs around his creased forehead, trying to contain himself.

His fear of crying in front of me surprises me, yet again; I don't see it as much of a big deal, though he clearly does. Everybody cries, don't they? We all cry. Even Eric Northman cries. It's no biggie. It's not like it would ever make me think less of him, in any way whatsoever. I think it's somewhat sweet, in a tragic way.

"It's all right," I whisper gently up at him. "You can cry."

He sighs heavily into his hands. "I'm not."

"You don't need to hide your face from me."

He takes in a deep breath through his nostrils, and at true last, let's his hands fall from his face resignedly. Much to my relief, he isn't bleeding out of his eye-balls like he was before. He's just... emotional. Hell, I feel quite emotional myself, after what we just did together. I'm feeling all over the place. Happy, sad. Excited, affected. I guess sex does that to a person.

"I am usually not like this." He sounds like he is choking on something, like he has something wedged into his throat. "This hasn't happened to me for years. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me, right now."

"Crying, like you were?" I ask sympathetically.

He quickly averts his eyes; He focuses on a spot on the wall above my head, embarrassed as ever. "Yes. I don't usually do it, I haven't for an... extremely long time. It took me by surprise before." The hesitation to admit that to me is almost palpable, in both his voice and expression. But, really? What's the big deal?

I reach up and stroke his face as he gazes blankly at the wall an inch or so above my head. His eyes water. His fangs are still out, and I realize, I still am expecting it. He really is unlike what I was expecting, as far as being a vampire goes. Not once, has he so much as attempted to fang-rape me. "You know, I wouldn't mind you giving me another first time," I tell him hesitantly.

I capture his attention, in a way that he finds looking at me downright irresistible. He studies my face carefully for a moment, and I catch the way his lips twitch. "A second time, for Miss. Stackhouse?" I know he's instantly thinking I mean sex again. Not quite, though.

"No, I'm thinking more along the lines of something else, to be perfectly honest here." Now it's my turn to avoid looking at him.

"What?" He's completely and utterly clueless.

"You know, not even once have you tried to force me into letting you drink my blood. Not even once have you tried to get your fangs into me, and honestly, I find it rather insulting."

His eyes widen. I've surprised him. Whoopee, I love doing that. "Insulting?"

"Well, yes. I feel like I've been around you enough to know that you are trustworthy, and that you wouldn't hurt me, as much as you could help it. I think I'm ready to let you have some of my blood. I don't want to fear your fangs anymore, and you know what they say about conquering your fears..."

He inhales in a deep breath, shocked. "You want me to fucking bite you, and drink from you?"

Suddenly, it sounds daunting, when he puts it that way. It sounds like something dangerous, and risky. "Well, yes. I think I do. And I trust you enough to let you do it."

"You trust me?" He eyes me, in a deadly serious and disbelieving way.

I smile up at him softly to show for it. "I think I do."

He scoffs at me through his fangs, full of derision. "That is single-handedly the most shittiest and fucking ridiculous thing I've ever heard come out of a human's mouth, Perky. You trust me?" It's a cold taunt rolling off his tongue. "Perky, many human's have said that to me, before I fucking killed them. Men and women- I am not discriminative of gender, age, or otherwise. You human's are all the same to me. Just because I find myself disturbingly... attached to you, I could still kill you within a heartbeat, and there wouldn't be Jack-shit you could do about it. You would be eating your words of trust, and choking on them."

Well, Jesus. That was as straightforward as a person could be.

"Forget I said anything, then," I mutter stiffly. "Forget about it."

"No, no." His eyes are bright with wicked excitement. "You fucking want this, and you will get it."

He cups my chin with his hand, guiding my head up, giving him more accessible voyage of my throat and neck. My back arches into the mattress underneath him, as his lips glide down my throat, panting and kissing all over me, and I think: _Oh, this is it. This is finally it._ The moment I have my first experience in getting bitten by a vampire. He unfairly prolongs it, keeping me hanging, and I learn next I can be extremely impatient over something like this.

I close my eyes tightly, and moan urgently through my teeth: "Bite me already."

"Oh, fuck off," he breathes against my skin; an irritated, vehement protest. Isn't that ultimately what he wants out of this? Jesus. Why pretend? He is a vampire, he drinks blood, for goodness sake. Big whoopee. There is hardly any need to try to be polite.

"Just do it already," I beg forcefully, hardly recognizing myself and the aching need spilling out of me with the words. Lord, I must truly want pain inflicted on me. Surely, it has to hurt, right?

One hand wraps tightly around my neck, while the other scoops the hair away from the side of my neck, bringing it over to my left side. My breathing changes dramatically, and I tense, ready and aching with expectation for the moment it happens. He's caving in, and it thrills me wonderfully. His nose skims across the side of my neck, as he resumes kissing me, licking me. My fingers twist into his hair, and I roll my head to one side to give him leeway.

"Now?" he murmurs heatedly into my skin, and I can hear the need for my blood.

"Yes, goddamn it," I gasp, my breathing quickening.

"As you wish." His tone is almost foreboding, sombre. His teeth pinch against my neck, and although I'm anticipating it, it's hardly the sensation I was expecting. No, it's sharp and it stings when his teeth pull and tug at my skin mercilessly, opening my flesh up like a bowl of soup for him to suck at.

"Ah," I cry out weakly, feeling my face collapse into itself in pain. My eyes burn, and I grit my teeth. How is this meant to be pleasurable? His breathing is harsh and I can feel the wetness of my blood on my skin, as he sucks, the tip of his tongue lapping greedily at my opened skin, at my blood. "Stop," I groan, trying to keep my voice firm and strong. Oh God, it hurts. "Eric, _stop_!"

Only, he doesn't. I'm starting to feel vaguely light-headed, and woozy. _Faint._ My heart is pounding in my ears. Why won't he stop?

**I'm very nervous about this one. Very, very nervous, and hoping it wasn't a let-down haha. Was it? So sorry if it was!**


	15. Purely Good Old Screwing

**First, I want to apologize for not updating in such a long time. It's been a hectic time for me at the moment, it's been crazy. I promise I will get to update faster from now on now that everything has settled down for me.**

**I want to thank you all so much for your reviews and the alerts I've received on this story. It's such a wonderfully reassuring and inspiring thing. So, thank you all so very much! You're all amazing and sweet, and I love you all!**

**Hope this one is all right and makes up for the delay. :-) Feel free to let me know.**

**Happy Mother's day to all you wonderful mother's out there, too. x**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

I feel like the main heroine in a horror movie getting slaughtered by the hungry, thirsty blood-beast, as his teeth gnaw into the flesh of my neck. _Or not..._

Just as my fear increases tenfold, and I'm on the verge of screaming, I hear him laugh breathlessly. It breaks the ice and tension I'm feeling wonderfully. He pulls himself away from my neck, and he's really a horrifying sight to behold; A thin stream of blood trickles underneath his chin. I'm pretty certain his fangs are stained with it, too. Ugh. Yucky.

Without warning, he brings his hand up to his mouth and bites into the skin of his palm. It's a real big, painful-looking bite. My eyes widen, as he brings his hand down to my bitten neck. He slathers something cold and wet over the bite he has just given me like sunscreen, and I'm presuming it's some of his blood.

I jerk in alarm. "What the hell?"

"My blood heals," he says simply, by way of explanation. He licks off the blood coating the corner of his mouth, and makes a gruff noise of delight over the taste. I'm guessing it's my blood. His eyes are bright and jovial, as he scrutinizes my face carefully. I've never seen him look so cheerful before? Perhaps blood does that to a vamp? I'm praying he can't tell how freaked out he had just gotten me. Unfortunately, it's obvious he can. He looks on the verge of laughing out loud. "You were fucking scared just then. I could feel it. You thought I was going to kill you, didn't you?"

"Well, of course I was," I mutter uncomfortably. "I think anyone would be. I didn't think you were gonna stop, for a moment there."

"Well, I would have," he assures me quietly, sounding pretty truthful. And then he slips up, and laughs at me. It's a quiet chuckle coming from the back of his throat. "You should have seen your face! Hilarious."

"Well, I'm glad somebody thought it was funny," I grumble tartly. "Because I sure as hell didn't." I reach up and touch my neck where his teeth had broken through the skin, almost expecting some sort of ache or twinge of pain. Surprisingly, there is nothing. "So, your blood really does heal, huh?"

"It does." He glances down at my pillow. "Whoops. I got blood everywhere."

_Oh, snap._

I sit up and look at my pillow myself. Great, just what I needed. There's a few splotches of blood here and there staining the white of it. I can only just imagine the look on my Grandmother's face once she saw it. Would she believe I had a nosebleed during the night, if I lied and told her that? I sure hope so.

I examine his face carefully, feeling a bit spooked. Imagine if he left my house covered in blood? What would people think if they saw him walking around with blood all over him? Or maybe people just wouldn't care? Maybe they'd just sigh and shake their heads, and think, _'How typical of vampires?_'

"Does my blood taste any different from other humans? Or is it pretty much the same as all the rest?" It feels somewhat odd asking him about what my blood tastes like, but I'm sincerely curious.

"I can't know for sure." He wipes off a bit of still damp blood marking his chin with his forefinger, then pops it into his mouth. He sucks the tip of his finger loudly, and looks deadly contemplative, as though he is deciding whether or not there is an actual difference in taste to my blood in comparison to others. "There is a distinction. A tangy flavour. Delicious." Seems he likes my blood, then. I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to feel on that. In a way, I guess I feel strangely pleased he does. He leans up on his elbows, and peers down at me. "Would you like to drink some of my blood?" he asks, sounding extremely hopeful that I do.

Why on Earth would he want me to, though? Unless it's some sort of... vampire kinky thing? Do they feel pleasure from being bitten? Probably. But the idea of actually doing it to him... My stomach churns in disgust like a washing machine on fast speed.

I cringe away from him in disgust. "No way." I couldn't ever imagine drinking someone else's blood. It seems... wrong. I'm not a vampire, after all. It isn't necessary for me to.

"It would make it more legitimate that you're my human this way. My blood would be thriving inside of you. People would not doubt for a second that you are mine. Also, it means there would be no fuck-tards like Compton attempting to risk it, in favour of tasting you." He strokes his nose against mine. I'm instantly brought to what Eskimos do, by rubbing their noses together. Eric Northman just gave me an Eskimo kiss. How funny. "No one would fuck with you, as my human. If they fuck with my human, it also means they are indirectly fucking with me. And I am not one to be fucked, and then to take being fucked lightly. There will be punishment. As you saw tonight with Compton, I am sure you know what punishment entails by now."

My head swarms at all the F-Bombs he has managed to drop in one entire sentence. What is it with this vampire and swearing? Seriously!

I know it isn't quite the way he means it, but I can't resist from pointing it out to him. "I just did, though." I grin up at him foolishly. "I just effed you, and I think your reaction to it right now is rather light considering..."

He rubs his nose up against mine again. _Second Eskimo kiss from Eric Northman_. _Give me another one; They always say three times a charm_. "But you fucked me in a way I liked being fucked, and also in a way that I haven't for many, many years. There is a difference."

"Is there really?" I tease, playfully. Thank God there is a difference, though. I don't think I would like to cross this vampire and make him terribly, one-hundred-percent angry ever.

"There is." He nods silently, his eyes glinting with good-humour. "If you fuck me like this again, I will gladly repay you by fucking you back, sans punishment. Which, I confess, is a lot more merciful than how I treat other human's that fuck me over." After a moment, the playfulness is gone, and he is eyeing me in a deadly serious type of way. "Now, how goes it? How about some of my blood?"

Playful bantering aside, for the life of me, I couldn't. "God, no." As nice as it sounded, I don't think I could stand it. Or swallow it down... literally. "I guess I'm just not like you. I'm not a vampire. I can't possibly do something like that. I'd feel... sick." Even thinking about it, it makes me feel incredibly ill. Is that what some human's and vampire's do together, though? It just seems weird.

"Fair enough. Suit yourself." He sounds disappointed, but ultimately accepting. He's not going to force me into it, which was wildly reassuring of him. He sits up on the bed on his knees, and grabs my wrist. I realize I'm still wearing my watch. It's the only thing I forgot to remove while we stripped out of our clothing together against the walls. "Fuck, Perky. I've got to go. Three hours until sunlight, and I got some shit I have to deal with back at the office in Fangtasia."

I can't deny I'm a bit disappointed, but hey, what was I expecting? He'd fry if he stayed along any later.

"No worries. You go right ahead."

He sits up from the side of the bed, hurriedly grabs his jeans, and stands to pull them up over his naked backside. My disappointment in him leaving is instantly dead by the sight it presents; How can a girl like the sight of a man's butt so much? He doesn't even wear underwear, for goodness sake. I could stare at that butt for years, I swear. I'm totally tempted to slap that butt of his.

He stills from pulling up his fly and turns to look down at me. "You're staring at my ass again, aren't you?" I haven't the slightest idea how he knows, but it's true. I am. _Of course_, I am.

"Guilty as charged, Sheriff Northman."

"Why do you stare at it so much? If you like it that much, why don't you just take a picture?"

I sit up against my pillow. "Oh. Can I?"

"What?" He raises his eyebrows at me in amusement. "You actually have a fucking camera on you?"

"Nope, but I think this will do just nicely." I raise my hands above my eyes with my thumb and forefinger out, pretending I'm holding a camera. "Click."

"Don't show that picture to anyone," he threatens. Playfully, I think.

"Oh, please. Like I could!"

He grabs his shirt off the floor, and flings it on over his head. He tugs the material down over his stomach, and... just like that, his gorgeous body is gone and concealed. How... disappointing.

He plops back down onto the side of the bed and starts pulling on his shoes. I don't quite know what to say, as far as parting speeches go after having sex with someone. What am I meant to say? That I thoroughly enjoyed it? That I'm hoping we'll do it again, and again? I don't want to come across as too clingy or pushy, though. Then again, you sort of needed to know what happens next, didn't you? It's sort of necessary.

"So..." I mumble awkwardly, letting it linger on meaningfully. He shifts on the bed a bit to look back at me.

He raises an eyebrow at me in question. "So, Perky?" It's like he doesn't know what to say himself. I decide I don't really care whether it is clingy of me or not. I just need to know.

"Well, we finally did the deed. _Now_ what happens?"

He blinks at me, eyeing me speculatively for a moment. And then, he shrugs. "I don't know, Sookie. What do _you_ want to happen?"

What did I want to come out of this? Hell, if I know myself. I maybe knew what I would have liked to happen, and that was for us to do this again sometime, because I found out I really enjoyed having sex with him. I enjoyed the experience. I enjoyed him. I enjoyed his body. I enjoyed how gentle he was, despite the biting my neck incident. It was a jolly good time- for me, at least. I didn't know about him, but I enjoyed it to the moon and back.

"I don't know myself. I was hoping you would kinda know where we go from here?"

His mouth presses into a hard-line. And then, he turns his back on me, and starts tying his shoe laces. He takes a very long moment to do it, and I guess, I realize he's thinking it through himself, figuring out what he wanted to come out of this.

"Why does this have to go anywhere?" he says, after a moment. He still doesn't look at me. "I'll be completely honest with you, Perky, as honesty is something I absolutely value, with anyone. I don't know what you're expecting from this, but I'll tell you what I'm not good for." I brace myself for the worst, as he turns back to gaze at me. His expression is nothing but complete honesty. He really wants me to understand. "I don't do the whole dating kind of thing. It isn't the person that I am. I've never been that type of person."

I can't say I didn't appreciate his straight-forward candour. It was refreshing, in a way. It is completely direct and frank of him. I find I like that, even though, a part of me was a little disappointed that I wouldn't get the chance to refer to him as my boyfriend, my honey. My lover. I think I already knew though, deep down, that he wasn't the type of vampire for dating. It doesn't surprise me really all that much.

"Well, I'll be honest with you, too." Honesty is clearly his strong point. So, why shouldn't I try it myself? "I've never been in a relationship before, so I can't say whether I'm the type of girl who wants a relationship out of this myself." I look down at the mattress, as I whisper the next part. It just makes me feel all nervy and shy to say it while directly looking at him, "All I'll say, is that I enjoyed having sex with you. I really,_ really_ enjoyed it."

"Yes, I think I could tell as much, judging by how responsive your body was to me." I can tell he is grinning by the tone of his voice. It's probably a cocky _oh-yeah-I'm-the-man_ type of smile. "And it was pleasant for me, also. I fucking enjoyed it myself." He says it like we're commenting no more on the weather, rather than something so intimate as sex shared between two people. I wish I wasn't so coy on the subject myself, truth be told. He reaches across the bed and takes hold of one of my hands. I force myself to look at him then, ignoring the squirming of my insides. He looks a bit on the nervous side himself. "I just hope you aren't expecting... more than what this is, and this is simply pure, good fucking, with a human I somewhat... feel for." _All righty. It's all it is to him. Enjoyable screwing. I think I can handle that, best as I'm capable to_. "It cannot be anything else than what it is."

"Yes." I nod. "I understand. No problem."

He lets out a breath, as if relieved, and releases my hand slowly after giving it a good and tight squeeze. "Well, good. I'll be gone now, Perky."

"Yep. See ya."

I don't look at him as he leaves. I hear my window pull up, and then hear it being dragged closed again. And then, he's gone. I'm overcome with an odd mixture of emotions. On one hand, I still feel a little disappointed and deflated by our conversation. On the other hand, I'm completely ecstatic, because I had sex with Eric Northman. And what awesome sex it was. _Sign me up for bucket-loads more with this vamp. Yes, please._

This is purely good, old screwing. Nothing else. I can handle that. I _think_.

**Hope you enjoyed this one? Yes, or no? Disappointed? Feel free to let me know :D**


	16. Erogenous Eric & Saucy Sookie

**I want to thank you all so much for your support and lovely reviews.**

**Hope you enjoy this one. But be warned, it's a tad silly :D Love you amazing people!**

* * *

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

Eric said he wasn't the kind of vampire for relationships, so this going anywhere was out of the question right now. Maybe he would feel differently one day? Who knows? All I know, is that I'm not the type of girl who will wait around for any man to change their mind. If he doesn't want a relationship, that was fine. I wasn't so sure I did, either. Experiencing sex with him was something fun, something I didn't think I ordinarily would have done, with a regular man whose thoughts I could hear. Although I knew I liked Eric a whole lot, despite all his complexities, it wasn't exactly a walk in the park being around him. I decide I'll gave him some space. Or maybe it was for my benefit, also? I didn't want to get in too deeper than I already was, after all.

I won't call him- thank goodness I didn't even so much as know his number, or Fangtasia's, for that matter. After all, the clubs number isn't something I would have on speed dial. I won't deliberately go out of my way to see him. He can make up his mind himself whenever he wanted to get into contact with me again.

I have my own life to live after all, and my own responsibilities. I won't put anything on hold in the hope that the man I liked would one day have a mysterious change of heart and decided he wanted more with me. I would try to view this as something fun, and crazy, with someone I liked, and was interested in, as much as I could try to.

* * *

I went back to work the next day, getting into same-old routine. After all, life doesn't just mysteriously stop because I had sex for the first time last night. I'm in a surprisingly bright and cheerful mood, as I head into Merlotte's to start my afternoon shift. Something about losing your virginity just made your whole outlook on life seem better, for some unexplainable reason. Is sex that way for most people, or just me?

It's a totally new feeling for me. I'm feeling almost invincible, as I walk through the back entrance and into the staff locker room to put my purse inside my locker. It's not hard to feel a bit cocky and happy. It's something I haven't really felt before, and it seems a few people catch onto my difference in mood. My bestie, Tara, for one thing.

We start our afternoon shifts at the same time usually. Since I haven't seen her in quite a while, I can't resist greeting her enthusiastically with a huge hug. "Bitch, whoa," she says, eyeing me with a funny look as I pull away from her. "You're like the cat that ate the canary. What's got you all happy today?"

"No reason, Tara," I tell her, with a shrug. Tara knew me so well, though, that she could instantly tell otherwise. And she wasn't one to give up easily, either.

"Seriously, Sook. Did something happen? You met someone, or something?" I hate she's so quick to come to that conclusion.

I feel myself turn as red as a beet. I turn away from her, as I wrench open the door to my locker. "Nothing has happened, Tara. Same as usual. I'm just happy to see you today, that's all."

She laughs, and I can just feel her giving me the stink-eye. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, bitch. But I know you're hiding something from me."

"I'm not, Tara," I insist. "You know I never hide nothing from you."

I get the fright of my life, as I hold the door of my locker open and come face to face with a brooding Eric Northman. Someone in Merlotte's was obviously trying to play a prank on me, in sticky-taping a poster of Eric on the door of my locker. They were trying to be funny, only it didn't seem all that hilarious to me. It hits way too close to home. Apparently, he was one well-known, sought-after vampire. Apparently, he models for Vogue magazines and models for clothing chains as a good-looking vampire too, because I spot that familiar little V emblem on the bottom of the page. He's looking all pensive and deadly serious, staring off into the distance. He isn't wearing a shirt, either. Oh, no. His body is curved artistically to the side, showcasing the strong arch of his back, and his muscular shoulders. The poster ends modestly at the lower part of his back. Shame, because he has a very nice butt- and I'm talking from experience, of course.

"Tara, you bitch," I sigh heavily.

"What?" she asks, sounding suspiciously innocent. I know she did it. It's so like Tara. I stand back a fraction to show her the poster, and her mouth twitches with humor. "Sook, I never did that, I swear."

I cross my arms over my chest, miffed. "Who did, then?"

"I don't know. Probably Lafayette. He probably just did it to get a rise out of you." And get a rise out of me, it certainly did. I sigh longingly at the poster, and then tear it off.

Tara watches me carefully like I'm an unleashed, wild animal, as I scrunch up the poster between my hands and toss it into the nearest trash can. I listen into Tara's thoughts, find out she's being absolutely sincere. It wasn't her; She doesn't know anything about it. It probably was Lafayette, then. Wouldn't surprise me, and I know for a fact that Lafayette enjoyed reading Vogue's Men magazine. He's very much into the higher ends of fashion. He also loves perving on half-naked men in magazines. Right now, he was crushing on Hugh Jackman's abs, and on our lunch breaks, he just loved to bring out his magazines and drool all over him.

"I'm going to have to have a stern conversation with that cousin of yours, Tara," I tell her, pretending to be madder than I truly was. In hindsight, it is pretty funny.

"You go right ahead, Sook, and I'll watch. He's working out back in the kitchen." Tara loves people beating on her cousin, and keeping true to word, I stalk out back and slip through the double doors to find Lafayette working like a busy man frying chicken strips. The kitchen gets seriously hot, and a thin sheen of sweat glues to his dark and glorious skin.

"Lafayette, you pig!"

Playfully, I slap him on the butt and he jerks and makes a very high-pitched, gleeful noise of delight.

"Oh, Sookie. What was that for?"

"You know damn good what that was for, you sneaky scoundrel!"

"Do I? I don't think I do." He bats his thick dark eyelashes at me, in a very provocative way. God, I loved Lafayette, in a brotherly sense- of course. "I think you is just trying to touch my butt." He pokes out his butt at me, and wiggles his hips around a bit, like a cheesy back-up dancer in a Beyoncé video clip. "You can grab it all you want, honey buns. I know you want it!"

"Lafayette," I squeal in disgust.

"These are buns of steel, right here. You can slap it, or grab, hard as you want, baby! I'm always down for it with my Sookie!"

"I know what you did, and it wasn't very nice," I tell him, all playfulness long gone. "I know you put that ridiculous poster on my locker."

He has the gall to stare at me blankly. "Which poster is you talking about, honey? Hope you never stole one of my Jackman ones, did you?"

"Come on, Lafayette," Tara says, coming to my aid. "Give it up, already! We_ know_ it was_ you_!"

"Yeah, Lafayette," I taunt. "We know it _was_ you!"

He holds his hand up to me in mock resignation, and then he winks. "All right, all right. It was me. Guilty, as proclaimed. But you know you liked it!"

"Well, I didn't," I inform him curtly.

"Yeah, you did."

"I didn't, Lafayette!"

"Sure thing, girl. You keep on telling yourself that! But I know you truly want a piece of that tall, blonde and dead! Deny it all you want!"

"Well, I already got a piece of it," I sing smugly, before I can stop myself. That kills the playfulness on Lafayette's side of the table almost instantly. Oh, shit. I curse myself and my stupid mouth.

Lafayette's mouth hits the floor. "You didn't, did you?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. That's all I'm saying, Lafayette."

"Well, shit," Lafayette laughs, very softly. He's speechless. "Somebody had to go there sooner or later, but I wasn't expecting it to be you, Sookie. Jesus Christ. You ain't so innocent after all." His look turns admiring, and also incredulous. "How was it with that animal? You still got your nipples on you, after getting a piece of that dangerous ass?"

"None of your business, Lafayette."

"No, no. You gots to reveal all, and Lafayette is all about the details. Spill, honey- chops. No one's ever dared to get close to that bad-ass mother before. How was it?"

"Just drop it," I tell him forcefully.

"He better treat you good, or else I'm coming over there to impale his ass!"

"Sure, Lafayette." I roll my eyes at him. "You'd already be shivering your boots at the thought of getting that close to him."

"Ah, but with good reason. He's one mad and miserable undead fella. You know, I heard one time he smashed a chair in front of a girl who was getting too close to his package? She wanted sex, but... no. He ain't want sex from anybody. He's too angry for all that business."

Again, with all the rumours...

"So, you really dared to go there? You got some brass balls on you, honey."

He's starting to make me feel uneasy. I can feel color fixing my cheeks.

"Now Lafayette, that's enough. He really isn't that bad." My mistake, in letting it slip off my tongue. I was deeply regretting saying anything, because I knew he wasn't going to let it go anytime soon.

"Yeah, yeah," he laughs again, picking at his nail polish. "You say that to all the people he has killed."

Yeah, this conversation was definitely spooking me out. How can people see someone so differently? Everyone else, it seemed, was under the impression Eric was a seriously bad vampire, who killed people and went completely nuts. I had another impression altogether, but maybe that was only because I had seen a completely different side to him; A somewhat complicated, yet tender and soft side. He certainly wasn't rough during sex with me. He was quite... gentle and considerate. And he cried blood. I guess the Eric they were talking about, and the Eric I had spent time with were two completely different people. What I'm seeing, is a very damaged and hurt man, who was still grieving over his father Godric's death. Sure, he could be angry and easily insulted, and it was daunting at first. But after a while, I kind of got used to that side of him and just took it all in my stride, and came to accept that annoying quirk to his personality. I just couldn't see how all these rumours that were spreading around, about how unpleasant and mean he was, was about the very same person I had come to enjoy being around.

Putting an abrupt end to our conversation, I turn on my heel and walk back out through the doors. I pass Tara on the way, and hated how flabbergasted she looked. I was praying the pair of them would forget all about it soon. I had been foolish and incredibly stupid in revealing that to them; I really ought to have kept it to myself, but I couldn't help it. I was happy, and felt I wanted to share that happiness to the only two people I felt closest to while working in Merlotte's. Big mistake it was, though.

All throughout the night I can feel everything has changed between the three of us. There's an air of awkward tension between us that wasn't there before, placing a brick wall between us. Tara even eyes me warily all throughout the evening, which started to bug me something shocking. I guess I have changed in her eyes a bit, but why should she be so judgmental? I'm still the same friend I've always been to her, after all. Sex shouldn't change that. Not even if it was with a vampire. Besides, it was my own private business. Why should people care what I did with my own personal life?

Merlotte's isn't as busy as it usually is, tonight. The flow of customers is steady, but not overwhelming, which comes as a relief to me. The lesser people in the room, the less I have to work in keeping my mental guard up for the evening. At about seven, the phone rings. I'm expecting Sam to answer it, but he's nowhere in the front of the room tonight. I'm presuming he's out back in his office, doing paper work, or whatever else it is he does when he's not out here. Since there's no one there to answer it, I do it myself. I inform Tara, who's busy making a man's drink at the bar, by making my fingers do a little dance towards the ringing phone. She smiles and nods at me appreciatively, but it seems somewhat forced. She's still thinking and stressing over the news of my having sex with a vampire. I suppress a sigh, and head on over to answer it.

"Howdy, this is Merlotte's Bar and Grill. Sookie Stackhouse speaking, how may I help you this evening?" I'm suspecting it's a regular customer calling in for an order of fried chicken strips, or our famous burgers.

"Hello, Sookie." I recognize that voice instance she makes her greeting.

Much to my surprise and equal confusion, it isn't a customer. No, it's Pam. Last person I'm expecting, to be honest. And it did things to my system that I wish it didn't. I got an odd feeling of dread washing over me. I didn't know why exactly, but I just did. I guess it was because she was closer to Eric than anyone. She knew him well. She's his daughter, after all.

"Uh, Pam. Hi. Was there a reason for your calling tonight?" I manage to hide my surprise well. I hate that I sound a bit nervous, though.

"I'm calling on behalf of Eric," she says. "He wants to see you." Oh. Does he, now?

"If he wants to see me like you say he does, then _why_ doesn't he call me himself? Or is he too busy and proud for that?"

She laughs breathlessly. "Both, kind of. He's embarrassed to call you, so he sent me off to do the job." I just love how straightforward she is. Gotta love and admire that in a woman.

"What's this really about? Why does he want to see me?"

"He never said an exact reason, but I think I know just what he has in store for you. He isn't a difficult bastard to understand. Well, he gave me some strict instructions to tell you."

"All right." I brace myself, listening carefully for the catch. "What's up?" I still don't understand why he can't call me himself, rather than have his daughter to do it? It's rather... childish, wasn't it? Maybe she was right, though. Maybe he was, in fact, embarrassed over what we did last night? He didn't seem too ashamed to lay out on the table that he didn't want anything else from me, other than plain meaningless screwing.

"You've been summoned to a hotel room half a mile out of Bon Temps. You will go down to the bar, and wait until Eric arrives. Maybe even get yourself a drink. You will pretend as though you are two random strangers meeting for the first time. Wear something cheap, and sexy."

I almost can't believe my ears. "Uhm, pardon me?" It's the most ridiculous phone call I've ever received.

She goes on as if I never interrupted her. "Wear something he'll be able to get you out of easily." And then, it hits me. Booty-call.

"Uh-uh. No way. He gets you to call me because he's horny and in the mood for sex? No goddamn way." I feel I'm being reasonable. It was just ridiculous all around.

A significant, pregnant pause on her end of the line. And then, she gives out a long sigh of exasperation. "There will be a shit-storm of epic proportions if you don't," she admits, a bit on the tired side. "Eric hasn't gotten laid in years. Give the poor guy some slack."

"I can't, Pam. I'm at work, right now. I can't just drop all my responsibilities to come see him."

"Eric won't be happy," she warns, stating the obvious yet again.

"When is he ever happy? I can't see him tonight. So, tough tabula. I'm busy."

"When does your shift finish?" Of course, she was thinking all the ways to get me into having to do it, so that her father was kept happy, and she didn't have to deal with his grumpy mood swings.

"Umm. Around eleven," I confess hesitantly.

And just as I expected she would, she says, "Then be there by eleven. He's already booked in a room at the Hilton Hotel. Be at the bar, and wait for his arrival. Remember: Two strangers."

I really can't see a way of getting out of it easily, and the woman is so damn persistent and bossy.

"Fine," I agree, going against better judgment. "Soon as I finish my shift, I'll get dressed and drive over there. But just so you know, this is crazy."

"Well, if you haven't already worked it out by now, that's Eric," she says matter-of-factly. "Eric's crazy. Crazy for you." And then she hangs up. I can almost hear her laughing at me.

And Eric was definitely crazy for demanding this of me. He's booked a hotel room at the Hilton? What on Earth for, though? Not that I didn't already know... I wasn't too pleased being called for sex like a hussy getting paid by the hour. Seriously, who does that? Goodness gracious. And better question yet: Why was I actually agreeing to it, like some mindless woman at his beck and call? I consider calling her back and declining despite how bad it'll be once he hears of it, but then realize I don't know the number to Fangtasia anyhow.

I've just got to suck it up, and take it as it comes.

The phone call stays on my mind all evening. As eleven impends on me, and I get a gloomy sense of doom about the whole thing. What was I doing? Why did I have to dress cheap and sexy for? I didn't even know what would be considered cheap and sexy, and easy to get me out of in his books.

I'm faced with a sticky pickle once I get home after my shift ends. Gran's put-out by my coming in, only to tell her I have to leave just as quickly as I got in. Since he wants me to wear something he can easily remove, I find the nicest dress in my closet I have. It's a slinky emerald green number. Strap-less, too. Just as I'm halfway through zipping it up, Gran slips into my room to start an unsettling conversation with me as she sits on the edge of my bed, watching me as I get down to business.

"Sookie, something odd happened last night," she begins, in a tragically shaky voice. "I... I thought I heard a man last night. Was it coming from your room? Or maybe it was the neighbour next door? I can't be sure, of course..."

Oh, awesome. Just what I needed to hear, while I was preening myself like a tramp going to meet her vampire pimp. "Hmmm, it probably was the man next-door, Gran," I tell her, not completely sincerely. I knew all the noises she was speaking of was probably coming from Eric. Perhaps she heard him raise his voice when Godric made his appearance? I'm real careful to do my make-up, packing it on which is something I usually never do. "I never heard any funny noises. Then again, I slept like a log soon as I hit the bed." I get out the green eye-shadow to match my dress, and put on some eye-liner. Definitely trampy of me.

"Are you going to see your vampire?" she asks, hitting the nail directly on the head, as far as being intuitive goes. Maybe I'm being obvious, though?

"I am actually, Gran. He booked a, uhm, seat at the Hilton Hotel. We're gonna have dinner." It's a lie and a half, but I couldn't really tell her the truth, could I?

"Oh, wow. Hilton is meant to be expensive with their food. Do you think he'll eat their famous lobster?"

"Gran, I don't think he can actually eat food. He's a vamp, after all."

"Oh, yes." She seems a bit put-out by that. "Shame, really. I hear their lobster is meant to be delicious."

All this talk about food was starting to get me hungry. "Yum, I'll have to try their lobster then."

"Yes, dear. You should. And then you should tell me what it's like."

"I will, Gran. I promise." Something tells me food isn't on the menu tonight, though. I turn to look at her, showing her my outfit. She doesn't look too pleased by it, which deflates my mood a bit. "Is it too... tarty, Gran?"

"Tarty, yes. I think that's the right word for it. Maybe you should bring a jacket with you, so you won't be too cold?" she suggests eagerly, but I know she doesn't quite mean it as a way to ward me from the chilly weather. In other words, she's hoping I will so I'll be more modestly covered.

"Oh, Gran. I'm sure I'll be warm enough in this."

"Well, all right, dear. If you think so."

I go over to my closet and pick out the biggest heels I've got. Gran's eyes widen, and I can tell what she's thinking. Cheap, cheap, cheap. I plop down onto the bed next to her, as I put all my energy into tightening the straps over my ankles. I bend over and kiss her goodnight on the cheek.

"Don't wait up for me, Gran. We may be a while."

"Just be careful, dear. Make sure you don't trip in those dreadful shoes." Yes, I'm worried about making a stumble in them myself. And, also, slightly worried whether or not I'll be coming back home after the night is through. I can't imagine Eric going so far as to kill me, though. No matter how dark and wicked he seems.

* * *

The Hilton Hotel sure lives up to its expectations.

I get there after a fifteen minute drive, and it's so busy the parking lot is almost full, but luckily, I manage to squeeze into a tight space. Self-consciously, I readjust my dress, before heading through the spinning doors into the restaurant and bar area. I feel tartier than ever. A few people think I'm looking every bit the tart too, judging by their thoughts.

Eric isn't even in the restaurant area, so I head straight up to the bar and take a seat on the stool, looking a bit awkward while I do it. My dress pulls up a bit over my knees, so I have to yank it down so there isn't any risk of anyone catching a glimpse of my underwear. Eric sure must love women looking tarty and cheap. I feel like a total hussy compared to how other people are dressed tonight; Half of the people are middle-aged, and are enjoying their meals, wearing fancy knitted sweaters and pearl earrings. I spot one lady digging into the lobster Gran was telling me about, and my mouth about literally waters.

Just as the clock strikes eleven thirty, I'm getting anxious. Eric still hasn't arrived, and I'm starting to reconsider the entire thing. I feel cheap and dirty. I want nothing more than to flee on home and get into something far more modest and comfortable, rather than this revealing dress. Just as a way to keep myself preoccupied, I let my mental guard down and listen into people's thoughts. I usually don't do it deliberately all this often, because it sure is a quick way to give yourself a headache, but I just needed something to do rather than sit around bored and uncomfortable.

One woman is thinking about how delicious and moist her lobster is. Yum. My stomach almost grumbles. A man is thinking about how wonderful he was at golf today, and how Jimmy owed him a beer for his win. Jimmy still hadn't brought his beer yet, and he hoped he would be getting it very soon. He could use a nice, cold beer on the house. Another lady is wondering how many calories is in the crème brulee she ordered. Would it be too fattening, or-

Like a miraculous warning, all the chatter in my head filters off and dies down. The vampire has arrived, right on schedule. My pulse feels its soaring straight through the chandeliered roof. For the life of me, I'm not sure what to expect. What's he wearing tonight? Will he think I look too skanky? Have I overdone it? Pam didn't exactly say what it was that would be a suitable enough outfit for him, after all. I had to sort of guess.

Someone taps me on the shoulder to get my attention and, instantly, I know it's him. I brace myself, trying to get into the mindset of someone who is completely surprised and doesn't know this man, and I arch my eyebrows up at him in question.

He's looking extraordinary tonight, but I try not to let how I'm feeling about his outfit show. He's wearing jeans, polished boots with a three-inch heel, like a cowboy going off to rodeo, a nice crisp and clean unbuttoned grey tuxedo jacket, and a dressy white shirt with the first few top buttons undone, and a whole lot of chest showing. His hair is neat for the occasion, combed back and slick at the fringe, and I'm pretty sure I spot a few new shiny blonde highlights in there. I'm guessing Pam's been having a field day in putting more foils in his hair. Lucky her. I'm pleased to know I'm not the only one making effort in my appearance for this crazy thing we're about to embark on.

He clears his throat gently, in a somewhat nervous and surprised way, as he takes in my appearance and my bare legs in my dress. "Excuse me, but is this seat taken? Are you expecting someone?"

"No, I'm not. But it sure is taken now," I say, trying to sound as flirty as I possibly can. And it works. He sits down next to me in the vacant stool, and eyes me and my outfit carefully with amusement.

"What's your name?"

"Saucy Sookie. What's yours?"

"Erogenous Eric," he says, completely deadpan, without even cracking so much as a smile. I try to fight back a laugh myself.

"Oh, really?" I ask, turning in my stool with interest. I place my hand on his knee bravely. "Why they call you that?"

He places his hand on top of mine. "Maybe you'll find out later."

"Oh, well. I certainly hope so. What brings you around this part of town? Business or pleasure?"

"Both, hopefully. I'm a sheriff, you see." His voice goes lower and husky, as he strokes my fingers with his. "I'm here to detain a woman. She has been extremely unlawful, and deserves to be punished. In fact, I will detain her in room Twelve..." He pulls something out of the pocket of his jeans and holds it up in the air, giving it a little shake. Something metallic clinks together. A set of keys to a room. He's actually gone so far as to buy a hotel room for this? Pam was right. He certainly got prepared for the night in advance. I try to contain my surprise, as he slides off the stool fluidly and gets to his feet. "You're under arrest, Saucy Sookie."

"Bull-crap." I try to sound infuriated, but I can't help the excitement in my voice. "This is an injustice, sheriff. I know my rights, good and well! I haven't committed any offenses. At least, not _any_ that I know of..."

"Do you dare to resist me, Saucy Sookie? Don't tell me I have to detain you by force."

Well, damn. I definitely don't want to learn the intensity of his strength.

"No, no, sheriff." I slide off the stool onto my heels. I put up my hands, palms facing forward, to show I have every intention of complying. "I wouldn't dare resist a man of the law."

"Good." He nods once, satisfied, and licks his lips. "You have the right to remain silent, and I certainly hope you will. Until we get upstairs, anyway. You can scream as much as you want up there..."

I swallow nervously. "Yes, Sir."

This is, simply put, the most craziest thing ever.


	17. Sheriff Inappropriate

**Love you amazing people, and hope you enjoy this one, in all it's silliness haha. :D Feel free to let me know xx**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

I feel like everybody can see all the way down to Tokyo in my dress. Hopefully in a way he doesn't notice, I shuffle the tight fabric back down over my knees, immediately feeling much brighter and comfortable about the whole thing.

Eric wastes no time in grabbing me by my wrist, and hauling me along out of the bar. I'm his prisoner, and he's guiding me all the way to death row. He's definitely loving this whole Sheriff thing, and taking it mighty seriously. As for me, it's not all that difficult to believe I truly am being sent off into sweet, sweet custody with this man. He's looking extremely businesslike and severe. Also, a little on the urgent side to reach the hotel room. Truth be told, I'm itching to see what the room looks like myself; I've never been in a place so expensive, or fancy. It's definitely out of my price range, as a modestly paid barmaid, who happily gives her Granny a hundred a fortnight in rent for letting me live with her.

"You take your job as sheriff seriously. Don't you, Erogenous Eric?" I tease, once we reach a boxy, shiny elevator.

He jabs a finger into the button that leads up to second floor. His other hand is still restraining me by the wrist, but at least its a gentle and careful grasp and without the hard force I'm presuming he really uses on the job with humans.

"Yes, I will unabashedly admit that I do. I take it very,_ very_ seriously, and you have committed some _very_ grave offenses."

Just as I'm getting half a mind to ask him what grave offenses he has conjured up in his head for me, the elevator arrives on the ground floor with a gentle _ding!,_ and he whisks me in. The backing of the elevator has a mirror type film to it, and I catch my reflection. Much to my dismay, I'm looking tartier than I'm proud of, and it's completely uncharacteristic of me. I can tell Eric likes Saucy Sookie's dress sense, though. I catch him stealing glances down at my bare legs now and then, but he pretends not to. He's totally digging it. Vamps sure must love a trashy woman.

As the doors slide mechanically closed and we're alone, he bends down and kisses the side of my cheek, in a very lingering way that tells me its all seduction games this evening. The kiss is felt straight down to my toes in my strappy heels. I pretend to be disgruntled and take a step away from him, and he peers into my eyes deeply with a questioning look.

"I think you are abusing your rights, as a man of the law, Sir," I explain to him, feigning offense. Really, he can abuse that privilege however much he likes. I certainly won't be complaining. Since we're alone and stuck riding in an elevator with not much chance of being overheard, I decide to take the conversational route of things. "Why did you send Pam, of all people, to do your bidding tonight? It was rather... embarrassing having her tell me that you had planned to take me here tonight. Not to mention, it felt a bit degrading and cheap." I can't help it that I sound a little miffed, because I am. No use in hiding it, and we're both pretty much adults here. "Why couldn't you call me yourself?"

It's obvious it isn't something he wants to discuss. Clearly he is embarrassed to, because he won't dare look my way. "I was busy," he simply answers, with a shrug.

"With what? Sitting in the main room of Fangtasia in your chair, and spying on everyone as they danced?"

"No, I wasn't actually. Pam was doing my hair. She got shitty and said I had to sit still, otherwise I would screw it up somehow. I wanted to call you myself, but then Pam is incredibly bossy when it comes to doing my hair. So, I relayed the message and advised her on some strict details of this evening to inform you with." Hmmm. Now I thought I saw some new blonde highlights in there somewhere. Guess I was right, after all.

"Well, she said you were too embarrassed to talk to me?"

He sighs, and his jaw twitches along with it. "Yes, and I heard her. I heard everything she said, because I was there in the background, listening to her. I felt... strange conversing to you on the telephone in the state that I was in."

I arch my eyebrows up at him. "And what state was that?"

"I had over literally fifteen foils in my hair, and I wasn't wearing a shirt. It seemed somehow... inappropriate." How hilarious; He's talking of the fear of being inappropriate, and yet he isn't the one dressed like a hooker right now. He shrugs again, and looks to be blushing. Of course, he can't really blush, because he's a vamp. But he totally would be, if he could. "I also didn't know what to say, as far as last night went. I felt I left a bit too... abruptly." He stares ahead at me at the wall, and it's like he wishes he could magically dissolve into the scummy elevator carpet for confessing about such a thing. "And then you didn't bother to call, so I thought perhaps you didn't want to see me. It was an extremely... confusing start to the night for me."

"Well, for your information, the number to Fangtasia isn't one I have on speed dial, so I didn't know how to contact you. I don't know the damn number, and besides, maybe I was a little... unsure myself of what to say to you."

"Well, why don't you have the number on speed dial?" He sounds offended, but I can't be too sure whether he is actually faking it, or not.

This is turning out to be one heck of a long elevator conversation. The elevator must be dead slow. I can't even feel us moving at all. "Well, why would I have Fangtasia's number on speed dial?" It seems a reasonable argument to me. "I have no reason to."

"Do you have _my_ cell phone number?"

"No, I don't." I definitely didn't. _Of course_ not.

"Well, _why_ not?"

I give him a look that tells him it ought to be obvious. "Because you never thought of, um, maybe _giving it_ to me?"

Fantastic, now he is moody. "You've never asked for it. Do you want my number?"

"Honestly? No, I don't want it."

"Then, why not?"

"Because I just don't, all right?" I mumble mulishly. I definitely don't want his number, because then... I may very well be tempted to call him, and I just didn't want to. I didn't need that temptation there.

I can feel an argument brewing over something as ridiculous as this. I can just feel it. _Of all the things to argue about..._ Good lord. His mouth presses into a thin line, and he blinks heavily at me, as though I've just slapped him around the face.

"I'll give it to you, and then you can text me back so I can save your number into my phone. Or better yet, you will give me your number now..." And he goes so far as to pull his damn cell phone out of the right pocket of his jeans, and flips it open. I'm really not surprised he has it with him. I'm guessing he's a busy man, what with being Sheriff and owner of Fangtasia, and all. He's a fast-finger-typer on his phone. His thumb is a blurry flash. It's pretty impressive. He looks down at me expectantly, waiting. "Now, what's your number? Give it to me."

"I don't _want_ you to have it." Boy, I sound just as angry as he gets. "Can we please not have an argument about this? Let's just go back to being Saucy Sookie and Erogenous Eric, please."

"Then, there are always plenty of other ways I can get it. Not as quickly as you just outright handing it to me, but still other efficient ways." He slams his cell phone shut and shoves it back into the pocket of his jeans, and there is a distinctively hard and threatening lilt to his voice. "Perhaps I can glamour it out of that friend of yours, who arrived with you at Fangtasia those nights? Uh, the fiery dark-skinned girl?" Oh my God. He's talking about Tara. "Or maybe even Lafayette?"

Holy shit. He knows Lafayette? How? When? Lafayette never told me this. He's just always telling me all these horrible rumours people have said around the grapevine about him.

"You know Lafayette?"

"Of course, I do. He works for me, from time to time. He's far too flamboyant and cocky for my liking, but I can't deny I like his style."

"Huh? He works for you?" I'm royally stunned. "How?"

"That's classified information that you don't need to know."

Even if he can't tell me, I'm sure Lafayette could. I'll be on his back for weeks about it now. How strange. They work together? Well, I'll be damned.

And just like an answer from God, the elevator finally opens. Thank goodness. It seemed like it was gonna take years.

"Why was the elevator so slow? I swear, I felt I was aging over thirty years in there," I tell him, as we step out into the long hallway of the second floor.

He gives me an odd look, and I'm very pleased to know our previous conversations in there have been long forgotten now. I'm very pleased we've managed to avoid a silly argument, and that we're not completely angry with one another. "What? You didn't hear all that clanging it was making?"

I frown, and stop stock-still. I certainly didn't hear any unusual noises, while being in there. Maybe he could, because he is a vampire and he has a keen ear for things like that? "Nope, I heard absolutely nada. No clanging noises whatsoever. You did?"

"What? You honestly didn't hear the sounds it was making?" He eyes me in disbelief. I shake my head, being truthful. I couldn't hear anything. Must just be him, then. "It was making a shitload of awful noise. I think they need to repair that thing."

"Hmmm. No, I definitely didn't hear anything. I did notice it was operating pretty slowly, though. You must be able to hear all the way to Rome, and back again then." He laughs quietly to himself at that, like I'm so hilarious. I'm very glad to know my vampire humour is improving, even though I can't see myself personally why saying that is so funny.

He stops by a white-painted door along the hallway, and wields the key into the lock. A sign that says in very decorative black scripture, 'Room Twelve' illustrates the door. Ah, here we are. We're finally at the room he bothered to book. I'm suddenly tense with anticipation, as he flings the door open. I just don't know what on Earth to expect, but I'm willing to bet my hand it's a very fancy room.

"All right." He rubs his hands together in excitement, turning to me. "Close your eyes," he orders gently.

I stare him down suspiciously. I'm starting to hate surprises, when it comes to him. I get that same weird feeling I felt that time when he asked me to place my hands on his shoulders and advised me to step on his shoes in order to show me how he flies around.

"You're resisting a man of the law," he says, very disapprovingly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Just tell me why I have to close my eyes?" I huff out impatiently. "I'm not sure whether I ought to trust you, or not."

"What? Tell you and ruin the fucking surprise? No can do, Saucy Sookie. You've obliged me to take matters into my own hands, and take it into my own hands, I will." He steps behind me quickly, and before I can even so much as grasp what he is doing, he covers my eyes with his hands. I squint against his white palms. _Um, okay. All right then. Guess he really doesn't want me seeing anything._

"Fine. I'm trusting you not to let me walk into a wall."

"Now that's an idea," he whispers into my ear from behind me, and his teeth very gently graze at my earlobe. I get the shivers all over me. "However, I can't have you confused for this. I need you coherent, and conscious, otherwise what's the point?"

"Well, that's very relieving to know, because I sure don't want a concussion myself."

"All right, Saucy Sookie. Walk straight ahead."

I still can't see for the life of me, because he has his hands pushed so far up against my nose and my eyes. But I think I manage to walk through the door fairly well. I don't hit anything, so that's a good sign, right?

He stops me, and says, "Can you hear that?" It's as if he can barely contain his excitement.

I listen carefully to my surroundings, scrunching up my nose. Some music is playing in the background. It's a woman and man singing in unison, and the lyrics sound all jumbled and odd. I'm guessing they're singing in another language other than English, but it sure isn't a language I can understand. It's rather pretty, though.

"What is that?" I ask breathlessly.

"Old Swedish. You probably won't understand what they are singing about, as you do not speak it."

"Then what are they singing about? It's rather lovely." And it heightens the setting, and makes it seem rather romantic and intimate. Eric Northman, the romantic? Who knew... I certainly didn't know he was capable of this. He always seems too... fearful of coming across as anything soft, and sweet.

"They are singing about the cages of lust opening and freeing them. That, and bloodshed."

Well, damn. Suddenly, the music doesn't seem so romantic in that way, if you truly understand the lyrics. No, it's rather... foreboding. What a way to kill the mood.

"So. Swedish, huh?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed." Mr. Proud.

"Can you remove your hands now so that I can see, please?" I can't help it. I'm a very impatient person sometimes.

"In just a minute. There is something else I need to do. I am trusting you to keep your eyes closed, and that's a direct order." In other words, he will punish me in a rather delightful way if I fail to do it in keeping my eyes shut. Maybe it's something I wanna risk, though? Then again, I don't exactly want to ruin the surprise.

"Yes, Sheriff, I vow to keep my eyes closed until you command me to open them."

"Good." And it seems he believes me, because I feel him push his hands away from my face. And then... I hear him moving around. I hear a light clicking on, and a fan rumbling. And then... I hear water running in another room. It doesn't take a scientist to work out just what he has planned for us for the evening, and I find myself both surprised by him and in awe. It's a surprisingly sweet thing for him to do. Especially for a vampire who isn't all that big on romance or obviously sentimental gestures.

I smile to myself blindly in the room, appreciating the music for what its worth. Who really cares what they're really singing about? It's beautiful.

"Are your eyes still closed?" he calls from inside another room. I'm thinking it's the bathroom, since the water is still running on full blast.

"Yes, they are," I scream back at him, my voice quivering embarrassingly with excitement. This is surprisingly fun, and adventurous. I discover quickly that I love not knowing what to expect. It's also nerve-wracking as hell, though.

I hear the water quit dramatically with its running, and suck in a deep breath, as I hear his footsteps shuffle over to where I'm standing.

"All right, you have my permission to open your eyes now," he says, in a very soft voice, and it couldn't have come soon enough.

Obeying and all too willing to do so, I slowly open my eyes and take in my surroundings. Whoa, this hotel room is every bit as luxurious as I expected. Huge, _huge_ queen sized bed, with nice clean white sheets. It almost puts my bed at home to real shame. A long domed lamp is on in the corner of the room, basking the room in a soft and gentle white hue. This is truly unbelievable, and the fact I'm here with Eric Northman and that it's him who has bothered to do all this... mind-boggling, is all I can say for it.

And, as for the vampire in question, he is standing before me a hair's length away, gauging my reaction carefully and anxiously to the room for any insight into how I'm feeling on this. I drink the entire room in again, and already I'm pumped to start singing him praises and get down to some sweet, sweet loving.

"This is... amazing," I say, once I manage to find my voice. Amazing hardly seems the start of it, though. "And the fact that you went out of your way to do this for me, I got to say, it's really... nice and unexpected of you." My voice quakes and breaks with emotion, and I really hate the sound of it.

Still, he looks mighty pleased by my approval. "Well, I'm glad. I've never done this shit for a human before so... I... I didn't really know what I was doing."

"Well, I'm totally loving it. Thank you."

He cracks a full-blown, relieved smile at that, and I stare, dazed. Whoa, mama. I haven't really seen him smile much, but when he does, it really is a sight. He has really nice straight human teeth too, as weird as that is to think. It just makes his entire face light up like Christmas morning. He really needs to smile a whole lot more, and that's a definite.

A new song comes on, and its mainly the man's baritone voice crooning. "What they singing about now?" I ask, mainly as a way to break the ice.

"Rampaging and raping," he says, far too straightforwardly. Well, Jesus. He certainly sounds as if he's singing anything but.

"Oh," is all I can manage, unnerved. It sure sounds like a love song to me. Then again, what would I know about Old Swedish? I know no other languages. "I'm guessing your fluent in Swedish, huh?"

"I was born and raised there."

"Oh, wow. What other languages do you know?"

"Most." Mr. Proud is back again.

"Oh, really?" I eye him, challengingly. "How about Mandarin?"

His face falls a bit at that, but he's still keeping up with that nice and awkward grinning. "No, I actually don't know that one. I know Russian, Japanese, Estonian..." And the list goes on and on. It's pretty impressive of him, yet also hard to believe. Then again, he has been around for an extremely long time, as a dead man. Why should I be so surprised?

"So, what's on the agenda for this evening, Mr. Erogenous?" I ask, trying to sound confident and sexy. And definitely... failing at it. Oh, well. At least I tried.

"It's going to be an extremely long evening. We've got hours and hours ahead of us."

"Oh, that sounds just fine to me." I give him an impish smile, despite how twitchy and hot my face feels. "I love an evening that is slow and sweet, and takes its time to reach the grand finale."

His face turns deadly serious and dangerous at that. "Who said anything about slow and sweet?" he says, in a low, throaty voice, completely deadpan.

"Oh, well. My mistake." I try to keep smiling, even though he definitely isn't. Somebody better crank open a window, because it is boiling right now, if I do admit.

Without warning, somebody bangs on the door and I jolt forward like a startled, and nervous cat. I burst out laughing apprehensively. Boy, oh, boy. Why am I so jumpy?

"Room service," a man sings on the other end of the door. He's got a heavy twanging accent and a rather feminine girly voice.

"Coming," Eric says curtly, and goes to answer it.

He swings the door open and then a pimply, red-faced boy comes in wheeling a tray of two bottles in a jug of ice to keep them cooling, and a few glasses that rattle with every movement he makes, and sets it by the bed. The instance he comes wheeling in, his eyes meet mine, and he gives me a goofy grin. And then his thoughts come rushing out along with it:

_Whoa. I can tell what's going down in here. Getting laid. LAID!_ He screams the last part in his head, causing me to jump, and he's almost frothing at the mouth. God, what a little pervert.

Eric must be eager for some alone time, because he pushes a dollar bill into his chest. "Thank you. You can leave now," he says, a little on the gruff and rude side.

The boy takes the money with a thankful smile, and then I can hear his thoughts all the way down to Wanda as he exits and Eric slams the door on his retreating form. _Whoa, he gave me a hundred dollars! A hundred! Holy shit! Soon as my shift is over at the crappy hotel, I'm calling up the boys! Strippers, cocaine! Hell yes! Time to P-A-R-T-Y! Ahhh!_

Guess Eric is extremely generous with his tips.

"My Lord, somebody is happy," I laugh out loud, thankful when his thoughts tune out of my head like a stereo switching off.

Eric throws me a confused look, as he pulls the two big bottles out of the jug of ice and sets them on the tray. "What?"

"That boy just then. He's very... vociferous on your giving him a hundred-dollar tip."

He stares at me as though he's considering whether or not I'm crazy, before recognition dawns slowly onto his face. He clicks his fingers together, as if suddenly recalling something. "Oh, that's right. I forget about your gift. Telepathy skills."

"Umm, yeah. If only _I_ could forget, but at least I got the silence around vampires. So, I guess that's a good thing, otherwise you'd be strapping me up in a straightjacket and sending me off to Oklahoma prison." It's meant to be a joke, but I'm not too sure if he sees it that way.

"Yes. I've actually been meaning to ask something of you, but I keep fucking forgetting. I have a proposition." He distracts himself by opening up the bottles. I guess it's easier than having to look at me, while he asks something of me. He's gotten me all intrigued, though.

"A proposition? Sounds... interesting."

He cracks a stiff smile down at the bottles. "I'm not sure if you've heard or not, but somebody keeps stealing money out of the till in Fangtasia. Pam and I don't know who the person is, but I know it isn't her. Pam may be sneaky and annoying, but the only money she dares to steal is the money coming from my bank account using my credit card. It makes no sense for her to steal more money out of the till, when she's got mine to use."

"Right," I whisper, carefully listening in for the catch.

"Well, since you have your gift, I was wondering if... I could perhaps borrow you a few evenings from now? With your mind reading skills it would make it a far easier job- not to mention advantageous- to have you there on our side to pin it on whichever fucker is doing this."

"Oh, sure. You can borrow me anytime you want. I'm more than happy to help."

His body sags a bit, in relief, as though he was fearing he'd be asking way too much. "That'd be fucking great of you. Thank you." Whoa, Eric Northman sending a thanks my way. Maybe a first...

He pours himself a glass - which I'm presuming is True Blood- then pours me a very generous amount of red wine into a glass. "Here, you go, Saucy," he says, handing one of the glasses to me. And then, colour me delighted, he swoops in for it and smacks another lingering kiss down onto my cheek. And this time, it is a pleasant longer one. Yep, Erogenous Eric sure is an easy man to love.

I think I'm loving Erogenous Eric. Not only is he courteous and sexy, and doesn't have a filthy mouth on him all that much, but he's also laying it heavy on the kisses. What's not to love?

"Thanks." I'm not much of a wine drinker, but I take a small, cautious nip anyway. And it's... foul. I have a hard time keeping my face straight, and not gagging. Is red wine usually this bad? "Umm, this is some delicious wine," I say, because he's staring at me and I know it's always good to be polite, even if it's an untruth.

He takes a sip of his drink himself, his eyes never leaving mine, it seems like a _sex, sex, sex_ greedy look, and then the funniest expression comes across his face. It's definitely matching mine in the disgust department. Maybe his True Blood's the wrong flavour? "This is disgusting," he grumbles, not bothering to hide his distaste for the sake of being polite. "I think we need to switch." He does a kooky finger gesture, indicating our glasses of the red stuff. "I think I might have given you the wrong glass." He has the grace to look embarrassed, bless him. "Sorry about that, Saucy."

"Oh, so that's why I thought it tasted kinda funny..." I laugh. Well, that certainly explains it. We switch and take the same tester sip of our new glasses in unison. Yep, this one is definitely the red wine. Much better. It's actually a nice fruity and bitter concoction. My teeth feel all scummy and red from the sip of True Blood, though.

He places his glass down on the tray and turns to look at me meaningfully. It's rather a smouldering and intimidating look, one that means getting down into the nitty-gritty.

"Now that we've made it past everything that's needed to be said, I want you to stand over by the wall and keep your hands on the wall where I can see them," he orders, in an extraordinarily deep and menacing voice. And like a woman fearing for her life, I comply at once, a bit far too excited and filled with exhilaration. I plop my wine down on the floor. "If you so much as even make the attempt to fucking resist me, there will be punishment. Do you understand?" He's strangely good at this. I wonder if he does this to people- namely humans- a lot, during his interrogations.

"Yes, Erogenous Eric, Sir." Without hesitation, I comply. I place both hands on either side of the wall, listening carefully to his movement from behind me, just to be sure what he's doing. I hear him step closer towards me, and then I feel him... right up against me, flush with his body. He rests both of his hands on each of my shoulders.

"I'm going to check for any concealment of weapons on you, Miss. Stackhouse." I grin foolishly at the wall. Yep, he's definitely taking this far too seriously. I'm not concerned with what he'll find, as far as searching for any weapons goes. I have none whatsoever on me, of course.

"My name is Saucy Sookie," I correct him breathlessly, reminding him of our ridiculous game. I can hardly believe we're doing this, but it is oddly exciting.

"Oh, yes. Indeed, that is right, Saucy Sookie."

His hands start with their searching, feeling around. I feel my breathing spike up a notch, as he kneels down near my legs. He runs them up my right calve, and bends forward to plant a quick kiss against the inside of my knee. I try not to squeal.

"I think you're taking unfair advantage of your position, Sheriff Erogenous, by touching a poor woman who is already defenceless and trapped under your will."

"Is that what you think, Saucy Sookie?" he murmurs against my skin, and his hands go... higher up my legs and underneath my dress. He hooks his forefingers around the band of my underwear, and tugs them down to my ankles, rather shamelessly. Good grief. After a startled, embarrassed second, I'm right in the game again. "Underneath these conditions, I think it would be safe to assume you are enjoying my taking advantage of you while detaining you, Saucy."

And, yep. He was right, of course he was. How can I possibly argue against that?

"Right now, I am doubting your credibility as a man of the law, Mr. Erogenous. Where are your handcuffs?"

"You forget the difference between vampire Sheriffs and human Sheriffs, it would seem." I feel him stand to his full height, and along with it, his hands crawl up my dress, until he cups my breasts through the material. _Sheriff Inappropriate, more like it._ "As we are vulnerable to silver, I cannot use handcuffs. I do not need them, though." And he sounds very proud of himself, on that fact. "My hands are strong enough." And, as though he feels he needs to illustrate the strength of them, he squeezed a little while cupping my breasts. Unable to help it, I gasp and jerk a bit in alarm. "You are disobedient and squirmy, Saucy Perky. What are we going to have to do about that?"

I burst out laughing. Saucy Perky? Colour me hysterical.

"Do you dare to laugh at a man who has you completely underneath his control?" He's pretending to be insulted, that much I can tell.

"Oh, no. I wouldn't dare to laugh at you, Sheriff Erogenous Grumpy."

"Oh, I'll show you grumpy in a second," he says, in a darkly dangerous voice. I laugh out loud again, and his hand curls over my arm. "And yet, you dare to fucking laugh at me again?" He spins me around, and I lower my hands quickly to grasp onto the sides of his jeans to steady myself. These ridiculous heels have made me all wobbly.

He drops to his knees on the carpet in front of me, and starts pulling up my dress, like a man on a mission. As he breathes deeply, I catch a glimpse of his fangs.

"I am going to kiss you here," he says, and for half a minute, I don't quite know what he means. Until, he does. Sweet Jesus. No one certainly hasn't done this to me ever before, and I discover, very quickly, it's quite enjoyable, and he uses his tongue well.

Doing things like this with a thousand-year-old vampire certainly can be fun. Not that I ever dreamed I would. _Not ever. Erogenous Eric certainly is my type of man._


	18. A Fool

**Thank you all so so much for being lovely, and wonderful. Hope you enjoy this one haha :) You are all so nice, it truly makes my day! x**

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_**Chapter Eighteen**_

We take sips from our glasses at the same time, staring at each other. Thankfully, mine is still the red wine, so it's fairly easy to gulp down. I guess him kissing me _there_ in the Southern regions has worked the pair of us into an awfully big thirst. I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and swallow it all down greedily like an alcoholic until my glass is empty. I can feel him staring at me in surprise, which delights me to no end. I slam my empty glass down onto the tray, then much to his confusion, I snatch his half-full glass of True Blood out of his hand and set it beside mine.

"Thirsty, are we?"

I wipe my chin on the back of my hand. "Oh, you have no idea what I'm thirsty for, Sheriff." Then I hold out my hand between us, keep my forefinger straight and my thumb cocked upwards like a gun, and jab him in the centre of his hard chest. He makes a small grunting noise in astonishment. "I lied to you," I confess, in a disgracefully excited voice. "I am secretly an undercover human police officer, and this gun here is loaded with silver bullets. You better raise your arms and hands in the air where I can see them, and if you so much as resist _me_, those silver bullets are going right through your chest and you're gonna be sizzling like there's no tomorrow!"

This, funnily enough, reminds me of when my brother and I were kids; We used to play cops and robbers out in the backyard at Gran's, though, of course, this version is far more exciting, kinky, and sexy. Have to say I'm loving this cheeky version far more than the innocent one played as a smaller girl.

He tries to hide his amusement as he raises his arms in the air, and turning his palms forward to me, like a good, cooperative citizen. "Well, this certainly was unexpected. Since I do not wish to die anytime soon, you have given me no choice but to surrender, haven't you?"

"Uh-huh, that's right." I nod swiftly at him, while all the while trying to maintain a straight face. "And you're lucky you are surrendering like a good, law abiding man, because you have no idea what I'm capable of doing to you, Sir. I can do _so many_ things to you that you would be ashamed of!"

"Oh, and I hope you do intend to do some of those things you speak of," he teases, his voice going lower and deeper, in a very enticing way to my ears. "Put your money where your mouth is, Saucy Sookie. Let me feel the worst you can do." And it definitely sounds like a dare... and _everybody_ knows how much I love a good dare.

"I'm going to undress you and check for any concealment of weapons on you," I say, trying to sound as businesslike and impersonal as possible. "If you make any movements or protest against me, I'll take it as a sure-fire sign that you're hiding something."

"Oh, no. There will not be any objections from me." And it sounds like an absolute promise. "This is disturbingly... entertaining, what you're doing."

"Hear, hear, Sheriff."

I reach up for the lapels of his jacket and he doesn't budge as I make the attempt to pull it off his shoulders. I grab onto the top of his shoulders in the attempt to pull them down to make it easier to remove his jacket, but it's like trying to crank open a stiff and rigid window with all the worthlessness it serves me. Damn strong vampires.

"You're gonna have to put your arms down so I can remove your jacket," I tell him sternly, and after a moment- fortunately, for me- he complies by bringing them down to his sides limply, and at true last I rip the sleeves off his arms successfully and toss his jacket somewhere near the large bed behind us carelessly. Ah, much better. I give out a huff in appreciation.

"You're not very good at this," he says, in a breathless whisper, his eyes fixing directly on mine. "You must be new and unexperienced. If you're going to check for concealed weapons on me, you've got to at least feel around a bit, don't you?"

"I think you're just trying to get me to throw in a few inappropriate touches your way."

"I fucking am," he admits, without any shame whatsoever. And maybe it's something I want to do myself? Really, who am I kidding? Inappropriate groping sure is a great way to prolong this, and make him suffer.

"All right," I mutter firmly. "Raise your arms back into the air please, and while you're at it, spread your legs." And he does, without hesitation. I can tell he must really want me to touch him, because his eyes remain on mine, in a very needful way, and his breathing is starting to get low and uneven, which gratifies me to the heavens.

"Search away, human officer. There will be no disobedience coming from me, I can assure you."

"Good," I whisper, mighty pleased. "Because I don't want no trouble now." I can bet my left leg that he would win, in that department easily. After all, I'm just a human. Nothing strong about me at all. I'd be easy competition. "I'm starting on my search now," I warn him, just to be polite and give him the go-ahead.

I do it like I've seen how they do in airports with their thorough searches. I pat down his shirt, making sure to be a bit more vigorous and rough, because he is a vampire and I know it won't hurt him any. I'm very thorough with his jeans, too. I touch around his crotch area more times than I'm conscious of, and I can tell he likes it, too, because he makes a few deep noises resembling growls from the back of his throat. His body gives me a sign too, which is always helpful to note; The crotch of his jeans rises a fraction, forming a very sizable and obvious tent, so I know he's loving it. It's very reassuring to know that I can turn him on. I'm doing a wonderful job, if I say so myself. Especially for someone who hasn't done something so outrageous and kinky before to another person.

"Anything?" he enquires hoarsely, after a bit.

After delving my hands through his pockets, I pull out his cell phone and the keys to the room, and drop them at my feet loudly. "Nope, nothing dangerous."

"How about a strip-search?" he asks, sounding very hopeful.

"Oh, I think that can be arranged." It's exactly what I had in mind, as far as what happens next goes.

I circle my hands around his back and pull the long tail of his shirt out of its tucked position underneath the band of his tight jeans, and the entire length of his body trembles like an earthquake around me. I pat myself mentally on the back. Yes, I'm definitely getting good at this for a humble waitress who hasn't done stuff like this before, nor ever dreamed she would. I take my time with unbuttoning his shirt, and raise my head to stare him square in the eyes while I do it, in an almost challenging type of way.

"Can you hurry it up a bit?" he asks, definitely on the impatient side. I try to fight back a wicked grin, as I yank open the last button and open his shirt up to see his naked chest; My aim in taking my time and torturing him is, thankfully, succeeding.

My eyes scan hungrily down his chest and all the taunt muscles that make up his stomach; Screw the Hilton Hotel's famous lobster Gran was talking about. I could just eat him up instead, and be none the merrier to go in for seconds.

He makes another rumbling growling noise from inside his throat, as I reach down and unfasten the button on his jeans.

"Can I have you now?" he says, sounding just as desperate and hungry as I feel. All good things come to those who wait, however.

"No, you may not," I mutter, managing to sound frosty and insulted.

"Then what the fuck are you doing?"

By way of explanation, I get down onto my knees. He watches me intently, as I run my hand down his stomach, starting from his belly button all the way to the opening of his jeans.

Naturally, he isn't very pleased that the tables have been turned on him and that he can't get his way; I'm guessing he likes being the man in control, and using his strength as a powerful ancient vampire to his advantage. Well, too bad for him, and _besides_, this is turning out to be bucket-loads of devious fun.

If my Granny knew what I was really up to with this vampire at the Hilton, bless her, she'd be in intensive care over a heart attack.

"What are you doing down there?"

He sounds absolutely clueless and as if he is in very dangerous need of being enlightened, so I waste no time in yanking and slipping his denim jeans down past his muscular thighs. I hear him take in a deep inhale of breath in shock. And then I'm face-to-face with his yahoo, and what a quite large yahoo it is. It is completely obvious he was enjoying my strip-searching and my taking control, because it's right there for me to see... his bodies reaction to it. My face feels hot and red as a beet as I eye it carefully, as though it's a completely alien species to me. It takes some time to get used to, as a girl who hasn't seen one all that often. I feel a bit daunted, like I'm seeing it for the first time all over again, exactly like last night. That is the exact same body part that was in me, and making me feel great. Whoa, mama. How strange it is.

"I am going to kiss you here," I say, mocking him and the words he had said before. And clearly it isn't something he is expecting of me, because he makes a nervous and surprised sound above me; a bit like a frightened whimper.

So, without further ado, I lean forward and close my lips around him. I don't know much on what to do, but I did see it happen in a few movies one time. I remember one movie, a Stephen King novel adaptation, where the wife gives her husband a kiss in the exact same place while he is driving along the highway, which caused them to swerve off the highway and crash. Thank the Lord Eric isn't behind the wheel, considering how off-guard it captures him. He almost shouts at the top of his lungs in shock, but manages to restrain himself, in the nick of time. We don't want anyone pounding on the door of the hotel room assuming I'm murdering him, after all, which is ironic. He's the vampire here. If anything, people should be worried about him murdering _me_. I guess diving straight in is a great way to learn how to do sexual things like this, for a man. Seems I do pretty decently, because he makes a lot of pleasured noises and his hands went behind my head and tightened in my hair.

And then I'm left feeling as though I've just walked onto the set of a Swedish film, and Eric's the leading main man, because he mutters a few words in another language that I can't understand, coming deep in his throat. They sound like nice words though, words of high praise, so that makes me a very happy camper. In fact, its kind of sexy and nice of him.

And then, after a while, he goes as limp as a dishrag, so I suppose that meant he had reached his completion, as far as kissing him _down there_ goes.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathes through his long pair of fangs, astonished, as I lay back on my knees, feeling all triumphant and as pleased a girl who got graded an A on her assignment by a well-liked teacher. "No one has ever done that to me before. I didn't know you would do that, but I... I enjoyed being kissed there. I enjoyed that very much."

"I enjoyed that too, surprisingly. It was a heck of a lot easier, than I thought it would be." I'm a bit embarrassed by how much singing pride is in my tone. But who cares? I ought to feel proud of myself.

He eyes me thoughtfully, as he tries to calm down his breathing. "Have you done that before, Saucy Sookie?"

"Nope. Do I seem like I have?"

"Another first, with me," he says, sounding very complacent and, I think, humbled. "You gave yourself to me, and now... this."

"Um, okeydokey," I mumble, a bit nervously. I mean, what are you meant to say? "I'm gonna stand up now."

"Now it is my turn," he says, eagerly and excitedly.

"But you already kissed me down there? I was just returning the favour?"

"No." He takes a step closer to me, and I just don't know where the hell I'm supposed to look. He's naked, and I can't say it's everyday a man is, in front of me. "I mean, now it's my turn... to undress you." Oh, now that's what he is getting at. I can sure understand that. And he gets me out of my trampy dress and ridiculous heels faster than you can cry 'Get me outta here'. Guess I did well, in wearing a dress he could remove me out of quickly, exactly as Pam requested me to on the phone.

Now we're two stark-naked people standing around awkwardly. What happens now?

"Bathtub," he says, answering my silent question. That makes me feel undeniably a whole lot better now that we're not standing around naked without purpose.

Erogenous Eric stays behind filling me up another glass of the good red stuff dutifully, while I find my way into the bathroom, and, just as I suspected from all the running water I heard before, he had already prepared it in advance. Guess this was initially what he had planned for us for the evening; Getting naked and slipping into a nice warm bath, while drinking decadently and listening to Old Swedish romantic music about raping, pillaging, and bloodbaths. There is truly nothing more romantic than listening to people singing in a foreign language about brutal stuff, when the tone sounds more of a romantic hymn. (Sarcasm intended on the romantic part of it).

Then again, maybe raping and pillaging is something Eric considers romantic in his view? Would hardly surprise me, if he does.

I'm halfway through making alterations to the temperature of the water (because it had gotten cold during the amount of time we had spent doing other things, namely kissing each other in private and sacred places) when the sound of Eric's bare feet slapping loudly against the tiles of the bathroom floor warns me of his arrival. It hardly warns me enough, because as I turn on my side, I cop an eyeful of his pale backside, as he plunks my wineglass down onto the side of the tub across from me. My breath gets caught in my throat. Though I knew he was naked (and I had been the one responsible of undressing him), for some reason, I still wasn't expecting it. And the temptation to smack that butt runs wild. I have to clench my hands together to physically restrain myself. What is it about this vampire's butt that I love so much?

And, in a way that leaves me gulping in air abashedly, he says, completely straightforwardly, "If you're done eye-fucking my ass, can we get into the bathtub now?"

I just don't understand how a man can be so blunt and straightforward like he can. Honestly, I think that's half the reason why I enjoy his company so much.

"Oh, trust me," I laugh, far too much on the defensive side, it's embarrassing, "I don't like your butt as much as you seem to think I do. Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, I think you do."

"Well, I don't. Trust me on that. Now, if you will excuse me," I say, through clenched teeth, "I would like to have some of my wine." I step carefully over him, and reach down for my glass.

"Uh, this one is actually yours," he informs me belatedly, motioning to the wine glass he is gripping in his hand, but by that time, it is already far too late and I've already had a huge and hungry sip. I guess seeing his butt makes me incredibly parched. And... the scummy feeling is back on my teeth again. I almost gag, and make a face. True Blood is foul. How vampires can stomach it is a mystery to me.

"Dammit," I curse loudly in frustration, and grab the wine glass he is holding out of his fingers. I throw my head back, and throw down a mouthful of the red wine, even going so far as to swish it around my mouth to get the dreadful lingering taste out. "This is the second time!"

Eric gives out a gurgled laugh, all at my expense. It doesn't feel very good to be laughed at, and it makes me mad. Incredibly mad. I see red.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" And then I push him into the bathtub, very kindly. He falls in, not expecting it, and his long legs hang over the side as he lands backwards into it with a heavy splash. There's a horrible noise as the back of his head hits the tub with a loud _clink_! Water cascades around me like a waterfall, and he makes a very frightening noise in exasperation.

_Well, crap. That was very mean of me..._

"You better get the fuck in here before I throw you in myself," he says, very charmingly. And I have no choice but to. I'm not as unbreakable as him, and I don't exactly want a concussion by him grabbing me and causing my head to split open against the side of the tub.

I find out the tub is far too small for a six-foot-something vampire and human. He hogs it all, very unfairly, with his freaky long legs and huge, cold ogre feet.

"Well, move over then and I will!"

He moves his knees up to his chest, making room for me at the other end, and I step in, before squatting and sinking into the water. It's amazingly warm and nice, despite how cramped it is with two people inside it. He grips the side of the tub tightly with his hands and swivels his legs into the air to rest his huge feet near one side of my head. I stare at the length of his bare feet in surprise. I don't think I'll ever get over how huge his feet are.

He slaps his palm heavily against the side of the tub, making it echo. "Put your feet up here."

I give him a fierce look. "Now, why would I do that?"

"I like your midget feet," he explains sincerely, with a nonchalant shrug. "They are funny."

"Funny? Why?"

"I don't know. They just are. Put them up here so I can see them."

"Fine," I give in, with a sigh. Copying him, I raise my legs in the air and place them against the side of the tub near his end, crossing my ankles. I wriggle my toes around, and he laughs quietly in amusement to himself. "What's so damn funny? Are you seriously laughing at my feet?"

"They are funny in a good way." He lifts his hand and grabs onto one of my ankles, moving his thumb around in a circular motion along my heel in an extremely nice and relieving way. For the life of me, I can't see how something so ordinary as feet could be so hilarious to somebody, though. He stares me down brazenly, as his hand roams back and forth over my shin, stroking me like a cat.

Thank God I'm a girl who shaves her legs regularly. I imagine it would be kind of a turn-off for a guy, if he felt prickly hairs all over a woman's legs, right?

"Can you feel how hair-free and smooth my legs are?" I ask, just for the sake of attempting to make it less awkward to be lying in a bathtub with an equally naked person.

"Yes," he breathes, in an appreciative manner. "They are nicely smooth and hair-free."

"Did women shave their legs back in the day when you were human?"

"They didn't, but I like it more this way," he says, with absolute sincerity, which makes me feel relieved, in a weird way. "I like that I can feel more skin."

"Do you shave _your_ legs?" I realize it's a ridiculous question the instance it pops out of my mouth, but I can't take it back and he hardly seems as if he minds me asking that.

"Do they feel and look as if they are?"

"Nope, which is a good thing. I kinda don't like men who shave their legs. Men are supposed to be hairy and manly, you know? I'd hate to date man who spent longer in the bathroom than I did. I'd hate to date a man who stole all my razors and shaved his legs more than I did."

"Pam steals my razors." Whether he realizes he is doing it or not, he self-consciously rubs around his chin with his fingertips. "She's always stealing them to shave her legs."

"Vampires still have to shave?" I don't know why it shocks me, but it does. I laugh incredulously at the absurdity of our conversation. _Hell, I'm having a conversation about shaving... with Eric Northman._

"We do. We grow hair, as you do. If I don't shave, I look like a cave man with a bush beard."

"I think it would be interesting kissing a man with a beard," I admit, a bit tentatively. It's the truth, though.

"All right. I won't shave for a few days, and then you could judge whether or not you like it."

"Okeydokey," I say, feeling far too excited than I ought to be. "You're on."

"Can I wash you?" He jerks his head towards the complementary body wash and soap the hotel has supplied. For a moment, I feel a bit spooked by him asking that, so casually, then decide, why the hell not? We're here in the bathtub, after all. What's the big deal? And, besides, he has seen more of me than any man ever has. What's it gonna hurt any?

"Only if I can wash you afterwards," I bargain, startled by how husky and strange my voice sounds.

"Move over closer to me." And so, I do.

The level of water dips as I crawl over on my knees towards him, then rises again as I sit with my back facing him. He gropes for the soap, lathers it between his hands and fingers, and then gets to work. He sets the soap back onto the little holder, and uses his hands. It's an odd contrast; Warm and cold, all at once. I try to contain my moans as his dexterously strong fingers massage around my shoulder blades, soothing tight and tense muscles, and relax against him, enjoying the experience for what it's worth.

"I was a fool," I hear him mutter quietly, from behind me, as he rubs his hands down my arms. I can't even tell whether he is talking to me or not, but then who is he possibly talking to then?

"Huh?"

"I said, I was fool," he says more loudly. Yep, he's definitely talking to me.

"About what?"

"About it just being purely good fucking," he mumbles, and I can hear he has his teeth clenched. "It's so much_ more_ than that."

"What is it, then?"

"Put your hair under the water," he tells me briskly, and I'm guessing he doesn't feel all that up to answering and easing my mind. I let it go, and dip my head in the water, wetting it. And he says no more on it. It leaves me in a whirl of confusion. But I think I'm beginning to understand that this vamp can be incredibly complicated at times.

"Thank you for all this," I say, forcing myself out of my own bubble of relaxation and pleasure. "And I don't just mean by washing me, and showing me a great time. I mean by everything you did tonight. It was surprising and... completely unexpected of you."

"My absolute fucking pleasure Perky," he whispers, and I can hear a very fangy smile in his tone of voice. "We should do this again, but... differently. Any suggestions?"

"Not really. I'm down with whatever you've got in mind. I got no fantasies for the time being, not any I can think of on the top of my head right now."

"How about Doctor and Nurse next time?"

And with the way he suggests it, so enticingly, there was no denying I was definitely down for playing Doctor and Nurse, too.

"Sure, that sounds sexy and fun. You better have a beard by then, though..."

Little did I know, though, was how far he was going to take it, as far as realism goes. Because next morning, I get a package in the mail and a box containing one Nurses uniform brought from E-bay - no doubt, his daughter Pam's doing- and a note that says to be at the Shreveport hospital downtown after my afternoon shift at Merlotte's, where an undead, Swedish Doctor will be waiting after dark.


	19. Playing Doctor

**Love you all. Hope you enjoy this one. Haha. I'm going to go run and hide. Thank you all so much for your lovely comments, I always love reading them!**

**P.S: I forgot Eric's 'sister' was called Nora. Oops. My mistake LOL!**

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**Chapter Nineteen**

I feel like a bull in a China shop, as I enter the Shreveport medical building in my fake Nurse uniform that Pam brought for me off E-Bay. The black skirt is a modest length, draping all the way down to my knees luckily. The buttoned-up white blouse is a bit too tight, but still modest for a nurse. The nametag supplied with it says so cheekily 'Nora'. It isn't too trashy, and I notice a few of the real actual nurses wearing similar ones, so that relieves me wickedly. I get a few filthy looks, and since I have my telepathy gift, I know when I'm being regarded as suspicious.

I don't exactly want to foil the evening. And plus, I'm rather excited to see my Doctor and what he looks like this evening.

I can't say I'm a fan of hospitals. Why Eric wanted to do this here, I haven't the slightest idea. Everything is far too gloomy and clinical, to ever be considered sexy. Plus, a few of the patients look mortally sick, and that doesn't exactly make you feel good and in the mood. No, it makes you feel terribly sad for them. Hearing sick patients thoughts was really the worst. It was like half of them already knew they weren't going to make it, and were psyching themselves up to attend their own funeral very soon.

An elderly man was being carted around in a gurney when the silence greeted me. That familiar buzzing silence that I felt almost attuned to, a sign that told me a vampire was near, and honestly, it couldn't have come soon enough. I just needed to find out exactly where Doctor Northman was inside the perimeters of the building.

Since I was moving around like a crazy woman to the side of the wall to make room for patients being wheeled around in gurneys, this hard man in a doctor's coat literally pops in out of nowhere into my trail and walks into me, and I bounce right off him and backwards into it. I make a horrible noise, not quite a scream of shock but an awkward yelp of pain, as the back of my head connects with the wall excruciatingly. My legs give out, too, which isn't something I'm proud of. I sink down the wall like a sack of potatoes, royally winded and breathless.

"Oh," the man breathes above me nervously, sounding rightfully horrified. "I'm so sorry about that. Are you all right, ma'am? Are you hurt? I am a Doctor. You will be in good hands."

It's then that I recognize the man's voice, and its like a sign from the Lord above. He's here. My Doctor is here. His voice is slightly accented (Swedish, I'm guessing, which is keeping true to his word) but I can still tell it's him by that unmistakably rich and deep voice.

My entire body sags against the wall in relief, and anticipation. _Indeed, I'm in good hands for the evening. Yes, oh yes!_

I raise my eyes upwards to look at him and... _Bam_, there he is; One Dr. Northman crouching over me with his hands resting above his knees, and an anxious glint in his blue eyes as he searches around my face carefully for any signs of damage.

I swear, he is one of those men that look marvelous in anything. Cowboy boots, leather jackets. Even a stark-white and opened doctors long coat, a buttoned-up ocean blue collared shirt tucked into mossy brown trousers, with a weird long implement dangling carelessly down the side of his neck- which ordinarily you would find plain and boring- he just rocks them all and somehow even manages to make that look sexy. It isn't all that hard to believe he is actually in the profession, which certainly helps the realistic aspect of it. Also, keeping loyal to his word about skipping the shaving session in the attempt to grow a beard for me, he's got some facial hair happening; A light smattering of stubble around his chin and above his top lip. Yeah, playing weird sex-games with a vampire definitely has its appeal. Oddly enough, I find myself just itching to kiss him, in order to see what the fuss is all about with kissing a man who isn't closely shaven. I'm guessing it'll have to wait a bit, though. After all, can't be too impatient about all of this, can I? I've got to play the game, in order to reap the benefits, and it seems its a game he is willing to play seriously down to the bone.

"Are you hurt?" he asks again, and I catch him squinting down at my name badge. "Oh well, fuck." His face turns into one of major embarrassment. "You work here also, Nurse? All the more reason to feel like shit about this. Are you able to stand on your own two feet, or do you need some help?"

I decide to ham it up a bit, because who doesn't like being assisted by a sexy Doctor? I'm only human, after all. I wince, and pretend to cry. "I hit my head against the wall," I tell him sadly, and throw in a few more fake sobs. "My head hurts. My whole body hurts. I think I might actually need you to carry me, and look me over."

"Oh, no. Please don't," he says hastily, and I realize then that I must truly be a great actress. He's definitely riding on one serious guilt trip. "Please don't cry. I don't know how to handle that shit, but yes." He tries to make his tone more sympathetic and brighter for me. "Yes, I will help you up, of course, and I'll see what I can do about this pain of yours."

And I win. I try to fight back a smile, when he leans down over me, and gently lifts me up off the floor. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he swings my legs up into the air effortlessly. He starts carrying me down along the hallway, and I'm too overwhelmed with happiness to even start feeling guilty.

Unfortunately for us, we don't go under the radar of any of the regulars that actually work here. I can't deny I'm glad by how much these people take their jobs seriously, because I certainly wouldn't want two strangers roaming around in the corridors after dark pretending to be people they're not. We're in the real world, after all. Halfway down the corridor, we're met with a very stern-looking nurse, who looks roughly about in her forties. It's hard to tell, considering how much make-up she has packed on her weathered and beaten face. Eric stops dead-still, and I'm instantly struck with panic. We've been caught out. How long will it take her to call security on us?

"Uh, excuse me, sir?" The woman calls, very disapprovingly. "You don't work here!" _What a way to state the obvious, lady. Since when do vampires like Eric Northman work here? _She glances down at me, and I try to hide my face in his coat. "What are you doing with that poor woman?"

"What do you think I'm doing with her? She's hurt! I am a Doctor!"

"You don't look like any Doctor from around here," she says sharply. Captain Obvious.

She has obviously caught Eric defenseless, because he doesn't say anything. _Yeah, this is bad._

"I suggest you put the girl down and leave, now, before I call security, Sir." She's definitely mad.

"Well, you go right ahead and call security. In the meantime, I've got a physical examination to get started on. Excuse me." We hear her echoed protests all the way down the corridor, and Eric is very good with ignoring her. "Well, when I suggested playing Doctor and Nurse, I wasn't expecting this to happen. Shit," he whispers, managing to sound oddly out-of-breath, as he strides down a deserted corridor while carrying me.

"Am I too heavy?" I ask, feeling incredibly guilty. I'm getting the feeling that I am. Maybe I need to work on my diet, a bit?

"No, if anything, you're too light," he mutters, in a very reassuring way to me. "Light as a fucking feather."

"Well, I'm super pleased to hear it. Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Maybe there is a room in here that we can find to sneak off into, without being noticed?"

This is fun, in a crazy and maybe illegal way. Getting arrested and put on criminal charges suddenly doesn't sound too bad when you're getting incarcerated with Eric Northman as your accomplice.

"Ah, good. Here's a room," he whispers, sounding very pleased and excited. He barges through it, and a light flickers on out of nowhere. Like a smart thinker, he makes a quick observation of the room for any people, and much to both our equal delight, it's an empty and unused room. _Thank goodness._ You didn't want people overhearing you or seeing you, after all, did you? I'm definitely what you wouldn't call an extreme exhibitionist. "I'm putting you down now, Nurse Nora, and locking the door, too, before we get underway with your examination," he advises me, very sternly like I imagine a Doctor would to his patient.

He sets me down carefully onto my legs, and I'm very pleased to note my balance is all good and I'm not wobbly. I sort of miss being carried by him, though.

He locks the door and comes back over to me. He's looking mighty fine in his coat.

"Did Pam get you that off E-Bay, too? Or did you just have that old thing lying around?"

"Of course, Pamela did. I can't imagine why I would need a coat for anything else. I don't play Doctor with any other humans. How is that fear-inducing?"

"Well, pleased to hear it, Mr. Northman."

He nods silently, and shoves his hands into the pockets of the coat, I think, as in a way not to feel too tempted to touch me, which is a heck of a shame. I'm all keen for touching. "Would you be upset if I did this with other humans?"

"Maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn't. That's all I'm saying." I know I would be, which seems pretty lousy of me. This is just strictly fun and games with a vampire. It couldn't be anything more, so why should I feel jealous if he ever did? Not my business.

Deliberately, I turn away from him and look elsewhere. Lord knows what this room is used for. There is a whole lot of shelves in the room, big and tall ones. I'm guessing it's used as a medical filing cabinet for records. I'm praying no one needs to come in to retrieve any patients records anytime soon, because this may very well take a while.

I whistle around my teeth, impressed. "Big room they've got here."

"Yes, big," he agrees quietly and distractedly, from somewhere behind me. Truth be told, I'm a bit afraid to look and see for myself how closely he is standing near me. I have a feeling I might just lose myself and all sensibility, and pounce on the poor guy. "I know of other things that are reasonably big," he says, in a somewhat suggestive way that tells me he is talking of something dirty.

"Do you, now?" I ask, trying to sound innocent and clueless. My voice thankfully works with me.

"I do."

I spin around to glance at him, as my suspicions are confirmed on just how close he is. All he would have to do, is reach out and touch me. And like a crazy and needful woman, I'm hoping he will. But he... doesn't. He simply looks at me, standing far too close, his hands out of the coat pockets and dangling at his sides unfairly. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes, and naturally, his fangs are out. He's in the mood, and I can sure see it with my own two eyes. I'm in the mood too, _hell yeah, I am_, so why aren't we getting down to business already like there's no tomorrow?

"How about we listen to some of those internal sounds?" he asks, completely out of the blue, in a husky voice.

Internal sounds? What the hell?

"Internal sounds, Doctor?" For the life of me, I haven't the slightest clue what that means. Something dirty, though, hopefully.

"With this." He holds out the weird thing wrapped around his neck. "With my stethoscope."

"Oh, of course," I manage, a little disappointed. He's definitely taking it too seriously. "Right. With that... thingy."

"Open the top button of your... uniform," he orders, his voice soft and neutral. He's getting really into it, holding onto the round end bell of that weird thing around his neck, and holding it a hair's length away from my skin. And, with deft and eager fingers, I manage it. I pull open my blouse a bit, showing a lot of skin and cleavage that Nurses definitely wouldn't do for a doctor checking their vitals, and he makes a very nice deep noise. I'm certainly being forward for a Nurse undergoing physical examinations. He slips the ends of the stethoscope over his ears to listen, and looks untiringly good while he does it. "All right. I need you to breathe for me, when I say so," he says, and finally places the round bell thing gently against my collarbone. The metal is absolutely freezing, and it takes everything I have not to squirm and squeal. "Deep breath in, Nurse Nora," he commands, and like a good patient, I inhale in as deep as I can possibly go, all the while pushing out my chest. He listens carefully, and it dawns onto me that this is the craziest thing in the world. I get that he wants to play Doctor, but I assumed it would be funnier and more... kinky? "Very good," he praises, and wrenches the ear bud things out of his ears. He looks me over carefully. "There is no obstructions to your breathing. You have extremely strong lung capacity, for a human, as far as I can see."

Obstructions? Lung capacity? Whoop-de-do.

I'm a waitress, not an actual medical practitioner. So, excuse me if I don't get all the technicalities right. All I can hear is nonsense, and medical mumbo-jumbo. And this is coming from a vampire who isn't even a damn doctor.

"Well, that's all very good and well, Doctor," I tell him, and I'm unable to help the annoyance in my voice. "I'm very pleased. But since you're here, I might as well fill you in on a bit of trouble that I've been having lately." I try a different route of things. "You see, I... uh, have an itch that fails to be fully satisfied when being scratched."

"Oh, really? And where is this persistent itch?" _Geeze, did I have to spell it out for him?_

"Somewhere near here." I rub my hand up and down over my thighs. "Down in this general area, and I believe the cure to getting rid of this... itch, is a man. I'm a single girl, you see? So, I don't get many men who are... uh, willing to scratch this itch for me. And this itch is in a very personal place, so I don't want just any man attempting to scratch it. I can't just let any man do it, you know?"

His eyes light up, as it finally sinks in for him. _Took him long enough._ "Oh, I see." He rubs his one evening growth, stroking around his chin in feigned thought with his fingers. "Well, I am sure you will be very relieved to know that I am very good with dealing with itches. Where about did you say this itch was located?"

"Underneath my skirt." If that isn't being forward and straightforward enough, then I don't know what is!

Without preamble whatsoever, he pulls down my skirt roughly to my ankles. _And, finally, the real fun begins..._

"Show me where this itch is."

"All up my legs," I confess, a bit weakly and shyly.

"_Both_ legs?" He raises his eyebrows up at me in question. I shrug apologetically, and he sighs heavily. "Well, since I only have one mouth, this may take a while."

"Oh, that's perfectly fine, Doctor. Feel free to take your time."

He grabs each of my knees and parts them wider, and I make an embarrassing noise. It's like a surprised 'oomph' sound, and he looks as though he is just dying to laugh over it.

"You are greedy to get this itch scratched, aren't you?" he whispers, in a low voice.

"I guess I am," I say hesitantly. "I can be a very, very greedy girl."

"Greedy is good. I fucking like greedy. But you better stay still," he warns, his mouth dangerously close to the skin of my right kneecap. Curling his top lip the slightest notch and turning his head on a lean, he uses his fangs in a very heavenly way. No biting, no pain, and even better- no_ blood!_ Just good old scraping with the very tip carefully over my heated and excited flesh. It's definitely the kind of scratch that rids any irritable itches. Suddenly, he kneels down at my feet and pulls off one of my shoes. The sock quickly goes with it as he tosses it carelessly behind his shoulder. "Have you worked out by now just how much so I like your midget feet?" he says, and then he bends my knee a bit and takes my big toe into his mouth.

_Um, whoa. All right, then. Toe fetish._ What a surprise and a half.

He bites into the pad of my big toe with his fangs, and I squirm a bit. I'm very aware of myself breathing like somebody who has just been running on a treadmill for over half an hour, and no doubt, he's very aware of it too, with his heightened hearing. It doesn't make me feel all that confident, truth be told. I can hardly hear him breathing at all.

"This is all jolly good that you seem to like my feet, and find them hilarious, but to be honest, it isn't exactly working for me." What can I say? I feel a bit touchy about my feet.

"And just _what_ will work for you then, Nurse?" He sounds completely confused.

"You know what will, and I would appreciate it if you could leave my feet out of this."

Finally, he leaves my toes in peace, and stands to his full height, regarding me like a very cheesed-off Doctor. He crosses his arms over his white coat. "But I like them?"

"Well, my toes aren't exactly where the itch is, is it?" Christ, I'm almost yelling. _Why_ am I yelling for?

"Then where the fuck is the itch? Where? I think you need to give me a little more information so I can make a proper diagnosis into scratching this itch!"

I laugh out loud helplessly. "You _know_ where it is!"

"No, I don't believe I do. You're going to have to be a little more... specific."

Son of a mother. He's downright irritating, and I know he's doing this on purpose.

"So, you think I need to be a little more _specific_, huh? Is that what this is? Specific. Well, fine." I throw my hands in the air defensively. "I'll show you _goddamn_ specific!" And then I launch myself at him, very politely, grabbing fistfuls of his coat like a mental woman breaking out of a psychiatric ward. "Is this _specific_ enough for you, Doctor?"

Grabbing his face and hardly caring about being too rough, I push him into the wall. There's a daunting cracking noise as the plaster behind him splits. This is what is great about vampires; You can throw them around literally anywhere. Against walls, into bathtubs, and nothing happens. I pull his lips down to mine, and he makes a very pleasured noise. He just loves being pushed into walls and breaking things like plaster, I'm guessing.

I'm met with a bit of disappointment as I secretly test out kissing a man with a bit of facial hair. It's hardly all that different. A bit prickly, yes, but that's it. No ground-breaking differences whatsoever. Oh, well.

I pop open the button on his trousers as we kiss for a bit, and then he makes another gruff groaning noise and grabs onto my shoulders tightly. We take a quick spin, and then he's pushing me up against the wall, as if restraining me, while trying to get to my underwear at the same time. It isn't entirely painless, but hey, I can't complain. There's a lot of rustling noises, as his trousers come down past his knees and a lot of fabric ripping as my panties are torn off by his fingers thoughtlessly, and a whole lot of panting and wild animal sounds coming from both Nurse and Doctor.

I grab onto the collar of his coat and give it a good shake. "You locked the door, right?" I breathe unevenly.

"Mm-hmm," he pants against my mouth.

"I really like you." It flies out from my mouth against his before I can even stop myself. _Well, done, Sookie. It's really awesome to know I have a brain in tact while getting down and dirty. Not_.

"Yes," he responds quickly, not sounding concerned either way. "Me, too. Fond. You." And I'm not entirely sure what he's meaning to say by that, but all I'm positive of, is that it's definitely English. He pulls his face into the side of my neck and starts kissing around, nipping with his fangs, gently, carefully. "Human. Mine."

"Huh?" Talking while attempting to do this definitely isn't the most smartest thing in the world. It certainly sets you up for confusion.

"Human," he says again, his breathing ragged, into my skin. Yep, we're definitely gonna need a translator for this. "Coming. Security. Keys."

"Hmm?"

I groan weakly, as he pushes me into the wall again, then wraps his arms slowly around my waist.

"Legs." He says between kisses desperately. "Around. Me."

At least, I can work that out. I jump a bit, and curl my legs around his waist. He doesn't give out a murmur of pain or anything over the weight of me on him. It's like I truly am as light as a feather. He turns his head over to my mouth, and kisses me, hard and long. It leaves me gloriously winded, and I try to meet him halfway, give it back just as hard... until I feel cold air gushing over the back of my legs, chilling me to the core.

"What?" I groan, and a sudden feeling of dread overcomes me, as he steps over something and tightens his hands over my legs.

"Trust me," he says, his voice soft and deadly serious.

And then the door barges wide open with terrible noise, and that old Nurse from before- I recognize her voice- screams at the top of her lungs, and a man is screaming, too.

"Please, don't do it," The Nurse cries, as though she's trying to get Eric to be reasonable, for whatever reason. "This isn't the way to go!"

"Did you do something funny to her?" The man cries, the less hysterical one. "What'd you do to her underwear? Why the pair of you got no clothes on your lower halves?"

I hear Eric laugh and feel him take a step forward. The cold feel gets even worse against my skin, goddamn it. And then the two people are at it again, with their screaming.

"Don't jump! You will die, and kill her!"

"Be reasonable about this, Sir. This really isn't the way!"

"Oh, no. This isn't dying," Eric says, and I can just feel an epic closing one-liner coming on. "This is air sex!"

And then I feel him take a long leap, out of what dawns onto me horrifyingly is the hospital window. And then... we fall.


	20. A Doll

**I want to thank you all so much for your support and lovely reviews.**

**Hope you enjoy this one. Hoping it isn't terrible :( Love you amazing people!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

I'm not walking very steadily because I'm so mad, and it feels odd not wearing underwear while I do it, but at least I'm walking. Walking to get as far away from him as humanly possible after the little stunt he pulled. But naturally, he matches my stride effortlessly, being as leggy as he is.

"Jesus. " He sounds out-of-breath himself, which is just funny. "Why are you walking so fast?"

"Why d'you think?" You'd have to be deaf not to hear the sheer venom in my voice. "I'm walking to get away from you. I am very mad at you right now, and if you cared any about your wellbeing, you'd be moving far away out of dodge before I did something very mean to you!"

"Why are you mad at me?"

My fuses blew then, completely. I sigh and turn to face him in the dark, aiming to give him the most frosty look imaginable. "That wasn't very nice, what you did up there. I knew you could fly, but you could have _at least_ warned me that you were going to jump out of a meter high window and prepared me beforehand, like a decent and thoughtful person would have!"

"I think your anger is pretty fucking unjustified." He sounds as if he is trying not to be amused, yet he's failing tragically. "You knew I could fly. What, you think I would jump out the window and let you die? And, besides, it was funny. The look on those human's faces, anyway."

"Funny?" I repeat vehemently. I cannot believe this man! "Do you _realize_ you scared that poor Nurse and man up there? They thought you were going to kill me, or better yet... that you were going to kill _the pair_ of us like some homicidal maniac!"

He steps back away from me in stunned disbelief. "Oh, come on Perky. You thought that was equally as fun as I did, and you know that for a fact!"

"No, I didn't! Scaring people and almost giving them heart-attacks isn't something fun to me!"

"Sookie," he says, in a quiet and placating way, like I'm a wild animal. He lifts a hand and goes to touch my cheek. I dodge out-of-the-way, very quickly.

"Don't you dare touch me," I seethe. "You're a very, very sick man, if you get-off on scaring people like that!"

"I'm sick?" His eyes are so intensely mad that they almost light up in the dark and flash at me. He makes a very impolite noise at me. "Says the human who was so greedy for me to scratch the itch up there in that room..." _Wow. That was definitely a low blow._

"Oh, no. Don't you dare try to pin the blame on me! _You're_ the one that suggested this whole Doctor-Nurse kinky game, so it is _your_ fault! Your _the one_ that literally threw us out of the window like some crazed animal! Don't you _dare_ try to make me into the bad person here!"

"Who exactly said I was blaming you for this? I take full responsibility."

"Well, good. I'm glad you know _your_ the one to blame here. And while we're talking about this, I might as well add that if we're gonna be doing this again anytime soon, we shouldn't do this in public places. A hotel room is just fine. Let's just keep it somewhere secluded so people don't get scared half to death next time!"

"You enjoy it, equally as much as I do," he mutters near me, sounding completely confident on that. And, yes, of course he was right. I found it oddly fun and liberating to be in disguise as another person, and then meeting him up and doing naughty things that, if I ever revealed half of it to my Grandmother, she'd probably be shamed and blushing for weeks. "You enjoy the excitement it presents."

"I never said that I didn't," I hiss.

"Well, then. Why are we even _having_ this shitty conversation?"

"The fact is, I am _mad_ at you! And disappointed! I feel awfully sorry for those two people in the hospital!"

"They'll get over it." He shrugs, dismissing it as _no biggie_, which I'm fairly certain it was. For those two poor people, anyhow. He's obviously not as mad as I am. He looks in the mood for something else. Something deviant, despite what happened roughly five minutes ago over our naughtiness, which I was coming to learn very quickly was a huge mistake. Being out in public definitely wasn't the right mood-setter for cheeky sex-escapades. "You know, you never quite elaborated clearly enough on just where that mysterious scratch was located..."

"Don't even think about it." Even though I'm still cheesed-off, he's definitely winning in deflating some of my grumpiness. "The scratch is now long gone, buddy. You missed out."

"Such a shame." Funny thing is, he actually sounds sincerely disappointed. Too bad.

"I still don't get why you enjoy this so much? The whole sex role-playing thing?"

"I think we both simultaneously enjoy it."

Yes, he was right, damn it. "I do enjoy it, oddly enough. I never dreamed I'd do stuff like this with a person. It's kind of... funny. It reminds me almost of when my brother and I were younger, and how we used to pretend to be people we're not." I smile to myself, then wince at how wrong that sounds. "Not that we, erm... did anything like you and I do, of course. Because that would be totally wrong on all levels, and Jason's my brother. It would be gross. But I... I do enjoy doing this with you. It's weird, but... fun."

"You think it's weird?" he asks, surprised. "I don't. I'm sure people do this all the time. They just don't discuss it."

"Yeah, maybe." I laugh. "But I think you take it to a whole new level. I mean, in public? Isn't that taking it a bit too far?"

"But that is the whole point, isn't it? Being in public makes it even more thrilling, and entertaining, don't you think?" He definitely has a point.

"On some levels, sure. But I think tonight just showed the negative side of doing it publicly, you know? I think we ought to keep it in-doors and strictly between us. In hotel rooms, maybe? Somewhere with a little more... privacy?"

"Where would we do it, then? I don't believe your Grandmother would be very pleased, if she walked in and found us playing Viking and Maiden, would she?"

"I don't know. Let's maybe just keep it to hotel rooms, from now on?"

"I have some spare money floating around." He says it in a way that tells me he is trying way too hard to be casual. "Perhaps I could buy a house and stock it up with human shit, so that you can come over?"

I pause stock-still from my furious walking, thinking that over. It was taking dedication to playing kinky sex-games to an entire new level. Why would someone bother to fork out loads of money to buy a house just for the sake of that? "What? You'll buy a house, and even stock it up with food, just so that I can come over and eat during the day? Then, soon as you rise from your coffin, we'll go at it like two strangers meeting for the first time?" Even voicing it out loud, it sounds like the most ridiculous idea in the entire universe.

"It was only just a dumb suggestion," he says, far too cautiously. And offended, I think.

"Even that's going way too far, isn't it? I'm pretty sure you can't even stomach human food, so why bother?"

"The food would be for you, Perky," he says, a little on the irritated side of things.

"Do you even know how to cook?"

"I don't," he says. "But I can always learn. They put cooking shows on television and shit, don't they?"

Cooking really wasn't the biggest problem here. "You'd actually buy a house so that we could resume our little games?"

"I would. What's the big deal?"

"Well, for one thing, it's kind of excessive, isn't it? Buying a house just so that we can do things in privacy? That's a pretty big and serious thing?"

"Well, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea." He cocks his head to look down at me in the darkness; His expression quite unreadable. "If it's privacy you're so concerned about, then I'll just buy a fucking house where no one will interrupt us. It won't be a big house, because I'm careful with my money, but we would be alone, and it would grant us some semblance of privacy to do whatever we want. Problem solved."

I mull it over more seriously for several quiet and deep moments. And then I laugh out loud, baffled. "It's the most silliest thing ever," I admit. "Not that I don't appreciate that you would actually go to such great lengths to do something like that, although I don't know why you would..."

He waves his hands between us, like I'm being so daft here. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Honestly? No, it isn't," I say carefully. "I just don't get why you would? You said it yourself; You're not the type for relationships, and people move in together all the time. It would be like we were almost... living together in a sense, even if it wasn't all the time that I came over and we did stuff."

"You're right," he says gravely. "I said I wasn't the type of man for a relationship."

"Exactly."

"How is that considered being in a relationship?"

"I don't know." I shrug uneasily. "It just... is to me. It's a pretty big thing. I'm more than happy to just keep doing what we're doing. You know, keeping it... casual and fun. You don't need to buy a house for that!"

"I enjoy having sex with you. Buying a house and human things for you, it isn't a big deal to me."

I stare at him, feeling both touched and astonished that he would ever bother purchasing a house for that. I still don't understand why he would bother, though. It seems way too extreme.

"And you can come over when you finish work. And I can cook for you, and then we can do shit. I can even buy another coffin, and we can stay up late until I have to go..." I'm guessing by that, he means until he has to retreat until sunrise. But where did this suggestion even come from?

"No, thanks. I mean, it's sweet of you and all. But it really is too much. Let's just keep this a casual and fun thing. You, buying a house just so that we can have sex... that's just borderline crazy."

"Well, I've never done a thing like this with a human before. I've never had a human before, so I've never had to consider it." I study his face carefully, which is a bit hard, because it's reasonably dark out. I can't tell what he wants out of this. If only I could read his mind... "The only other person I've had in my life, is Pamela."

"But what's the point?" I ask him blankly. "It's way too extreme. It'd make me feel like we're a couple, and it would only just complicate things. You told me, first time we had sex... that this was nothing more than good, meaningless screwing for you? It can't be anything more, you said? Remember?" Then, I finally got it. I got a tiny glimpse of the expression on his face through the moonlight, and that was it. "What, you've actually had a change of heart? You actually wanna seriously consider buying a house just so that I can come around after work, and we can fool around?"

He looks embarrassed; that's how he looked. A guilty man caught out in a lie. And then, all that uncertainty and embarrassment on his face quickly shifted into that familiar man who I've come to recognize. That grumpy, easily defensive one.

"You're putting words in that I never even fucking said. I never _said_ I was not ever the type of man for relationships. What I merely meant by that was that I hadn't ever _been in one_ before, and a relationship...I don't know how to do that shit or what it entails."

"Well, this is retarded," I manage, for lack of a better word. "When we had sex, you put it quite plainly to me that this wasn't anything all that meaningful, so why on Earth would you go so far as to buy a house for something meaningless?"

"I never said it was meaningless."

"I'm just trying to see this as a fun thing, with no emotions involved, like you obviously want it to be," I tell him petulantly. "I don't see how buying a house for this fits into the bill here?"

"Then just forget it. Forget I mentioned it then."

"Why would you?" I ask, trying to control myself. "This is something new for me, as well. When people buy houses for other people to live in and stay over in... it seems like a couple thing to me. I appreciate that you would do that, but honestly... it's ridiculous."

"What is this, then?" he asks loudly. "_What_ is _this_? You and me? Because I have done things with you that I would never do, not in a _million_ years, for a human. I never thought I would! I met your fucking Grandmother, for God's sake. I brought over my sword that night! I talked about my previous life. I talk to you, which is something I don't ordinarily do. I don't talk to humans! I don't do _this_ with humans, and now... I _am_! What _is_ this? Are you _mine_, or what?"

"I am not for anybody to have and label as theirs," I say, as mildly as I can. It's a little hard, when he is getting so ferocious by the topic.

"Well, it seems like you're mine." I think he notices how weird I am about that, because he is hasty to amend his words, thank Jesus. "I don't understand this, and frankly, you're the most strangest human I've ever met. We talk about ridiculous subjects, like shaving and... and... foils among other things, and for some reason, I like that! I don't know what this _is_ between us, but I'm pretty sure this is what vampires do with a human that is theirs and they feel some sort of... attachment to them!"

This was different. I'm pretty sure we're having a relationship talk, and its being initiated by him. What a surprise.

"Do you do this with other humans? Are you... doing this with others?"

That threw me off, for a second.

"What kind of question is that?" I ask, my voice tight. "Are you seriously daring to ask me this right now?"

He stares at me in dead-silence for a moment, like a vampire lost at sea. "I just need to know if we're on the same page here?"

"On the same page? What page are you on?"

"I don't do this with others. I... I just..." He's completely and utterly lost for words. "I've never done this before!"

"All right," I whisper, trying to contain myself, because I think I know what he is getting at, finally. "I think I'm on the same page, as far as I enjoy being around you. It can be awkward at times, and yeah, we do talk about crazy things, but I find I enjoy that side of it, too. I don't know what you're quite asking of me, but if you're asking whether I play kinky games with other people, that's a firm, _firm_ negative." I take his hand cautiously. "All I know, is that I have fun with you. It isn't exactly a walk in the park, but I like you a lot. I don't want to do this with anyone else, for the time being goes. You said you didn't want more, it can never be nothing more, and I'm dealing with that just fine. You don't need to feel as if you need to go out of your way to buy a house, just to keep me happy. Everything is fine the way it is. Just fine. Let's just keep things the way they are."

And, much to my pleasure, the conversation doesn't run from there. We manage to have a nice and peaceful walk home. Peaceful, on my side of the table, anyway. Eric looks like he is just dying to say a million other things to me, but thankfully, he doesn't. Honestly, I couldn't handle it right now. I just wanted to get home. No serious talk, or any arguments. Especially not after tonight at the hospital, and the entire incident. It had only meant to have been something fun, and sexy. It turned out anything, but. I admit, it had its good few minutes; Namely me pushing Doctor Northman up against the wall, and testing out his beard growth. After that, everything practically had gone majorly downhill.

Once we reach the long driveway that curves up to Gran's yard, we stop.

"Do you want to come in and say hello to Gran? No doubt, she'd be pleased to see you and have a chat."

Of course, talking to Gran was the very last thing he wanted to have to do right now.

"No, I don't think I will tonight. I think I'll leave," he says simply, turning to look at me, his expression still very much like a man with a head billowing over with confused thoughts.

Well, this is awkward.

"See you, then." I give him a nervous smile, and start trailing slowly through the yard. I throw but one glance around my shoulder to find he is still standing there. Trying to think of a way to be flirty, and to break him out of his weird mood, I tilt my chin in the air, and slowly hitch up my silly skirt over my legs, daring to show him my bare lady-parts. "Oh, and by the way Doctor... my itch was right up here in the general area of my crotch. Guess you're not very much of a good doctor, after all."

His reaction to that leaves me floating on a cloud; _Ha, take that!_

His mouth drops right open, and his fangs withdraw. I guess he enjoyed that very much.

Smiling to myself and feeling like the best girl in the world, I saunter up the steps of the porch. What a great reaction. I am almost proud of myself. He does one of his creepy vampire movements to the left of me, looking extremely pleased by the show this Nurse has put on.

I guess he isn't the type of vamp to kiss a girl goodbye. Just gawk at her as she leaves.

"Perky, wait. I forgot something." _Or just maybe he is, after all._ "I have something for you." It's instantly obvious to me he isn't talking about kisses. He pulls something out of his doctors coat, and thrusts it into my hand. It's a plain envelope, very thin. I can tell there is something inside. I'm guessing that's my gift.

"What is it?" I ask, intrigued. Then feel instantly horrified. "Oh, Jesus. It isn't money, is it? Because if it is, then you sure know how to make a girl feel like a kept woman?"

"Open it when you get inside. It's kind of... embarrassing."

"But is it money? Because, you know, if it is... then I refuse to accept!"

"It isn't money, I can assure you. But it is something embarrassing. To me, at least. Pam talked me into it. I don't know why I let her, then again, she knew how much you liked it, you couldn't take your eyes off it. Also, she just loves to embarrass her Maker."

This left me blank on wondering where to go from here, conversationally. He knew how much I like it? Something I couldn't take my eyes off of? My curiosity and suspicion getting the better of me, I yank open the envelope to see what's inside. Much to my pleasure, it isn't money. It's a photograph. A selfie, of Eric Northman's fine dimple-free butt. Best gift ever. Suddenly, I can see why Eric would want me to open it up inside once he's gone and safely out of mortifications way.

I'm not one of those people who enjoy people's discomfort, but the look on his face was truly priceless.

"Pam took a picture of your butt?"

"She did." He can't even look me straight in the eye, he is so flustered. "I couldn't get the angle right by myself. It wasn't easy."

"Well, thank you for this. " I place it back carefully into the envelope, and seal it up. I'll take a more thorough look at it later. "I might even sticky-tape it to my bedroom wall, and hopefully dream about your glorious butt."

I can't think of a time when I've been so flustered over something another person has done. Oh, yeah, that's right; A while ago, during our flying incident, which Eric so indecently named 'Air Sex' and, in the meantime probably gave the poor Nurse in there the fright of her life. Poor woman.

"I knew you would like it," he mutters, relieved.

"Well, I do. Thanks, and see ya."

"Can I borrow you tomorrow night?"

For a moment there, I almost forget what he means by that. Until, I remember. He means he wants to borrow me for my telepathy skills, of course. Nothing sexual about that at all.

"Sure. I finish work at eight tomorrow, so I'll be at Fangtasia around... say, eight-thirty?"

"Great. That's good for me."

"Great." I stare down at the envelope, as a way to distract myself. Boy, I never knew saying goodbyes would be this drawn-out and difficult. "Well, night."

He looks as though he has thousands of other things he wants to say, but he keeps it short and sweet. "Goodnight, Perky." And so, we leave it at that.

* * *

I'm incredibly nervous, come next evening.

It's not that I'm nervous about seeing Eric. It's mainly because I've never been relied on so much to use my actual 'telepathy gift' before. It was going to be a serious job. I didn't know whether it would be a success or not. I'm not sure whether I'll get any useful information out of anyone, anything useful to Eric to help pin it on whoever the culprit was that was constantly stealing money from the till in Fangtasia.

It's sort of nice that Eric held so much faith in my ability, though. I couldn't deny that. Whereas I'm inclined to see it as a disability I've had to live with since forever, I guess maybe it could come in handy? If it helps other people out, why should I feel so ashamed of my little disability? Maybe it wasn't all that much a hindrance after all. Plus, it gave me an excuse to see Eric again, and maybe, just maybe, seeing him was exactly what had me eager to agreeing to it.

Too bad I didn't understand anything about our crazy conversation last night. I just couldn't understand what he was trying to get at, for the life of me. Did he want something more out of this, other than a fun time? Probably not. It just didn't seem as if he was the type. Or maybe I just had his type all wrong? Either way, I didn't know.

Soon as I finished my shift, I took a quick run into the staff bathroom to fix up my face and throw on some clean clothes so I wouldn't be stuck in my unimpressive Merlotte's uniform. It certainly made me feel in higher spirits, when I made sure to put some effort into my appearance for tonight. I'm not wearing anything too outlandish for the occasion, not anything Saucy Sookie would have in her wardrobe, because I didn't want to seem as if I was trying too hard. Which I sort of was. I put on some blue jeans, a low neckline floral shirt, and (maybe just to be a little sexy, who am I kidding?) a pair of high heels that I got from Target that were white.

In my eyes, I wasn't trying too hard. I put on a smear of clear lip-gloss just to make myself feel even more prettier and better about the whole thing. It certainly eases up my nerves a fraction. I untie my hair from its tight bun, and let it ripple down my back. And then, there. I'm all good and done.

My nerves increase on the ride over there. I'm all jumpy, and jittery. I try to distract myself by switching on the radio and singing along out of tune to a catchy song about a good girl unable to be domesticated by her man, and still, even then, I'm buzzing.

Once I pull in, I spot Eric's sporty car (Red, as he so hilariously named it) parked out back in a private zone, along with Pam's ostentatious pink Mercedes that she boasted to me about previously, among other less cooler cars.

Vampire's sure must love high-end cars.

I wait at the back of the long line of people crowding in to the club to wait for Pam to card them. She must spot me over the numerous heads, because she makes a very kooky finger gesture at me, telling me to push through the line and get my butt inside. I throw a thankful smile her way, and try to elbow my way through the crowd. Half of them are obviously trying to be vampires. Most are wearing black. A Goth girl stares after me in a somewhat malicious and envious way, as I finally reach Pam, and she whisks me in without a single word.

Why do I feel like it's almost a sin to keep me waiting, like all the rest?

"Finally, you're here. You're fifteen minutes late, but what the fuck can I do about that?" she says underneath her breath, in an extremely feverish way. "You've kept him waiting. He doesn't like to wait."

"Good evening to you, too," I say, trying to be polite in greeting her pointedly, because she sure wasn't just then.

"So, how is everything?" Something tells me she isn't quite asking me so much on how my day has been. No, she's searching for information. Information that her nose doesn't quite belong poking.

"Fine, Pam. Thanks for asking."

She stops once we reach a crowd of people, leans in disturbingly close, and clasps my hand in an iron-like grasp. "How's the sex?"

For a moment, I'm hoping I've misunderstood her.

"Pardon me?"

"The sex. With Eric. Did you satisfy him?"

Nope. Definitely haven't. Good Lord. She's so blunt.

I have half a mind to tell her it isn't any of her business, but I see she's looking so desperate and urgent.

"What does this have anything to do with the person I'm trying to find who keeps stealing money? No offense."

"I just want to know whether he's getting laid or not. He's been... happier lately. Less shitty. And Godric hasn't been appearing to him, which is great. No more shit-storms."

"Uh, that's really nice to hear, Pam."

She leads me all the way through the crowd to where his office is. Fangtasia really hasn't changed much at all, as far as the décor goes. Well, with the exception of the music style, of course. A style of song I never dreamed would be coming from a vampire-themed bar like Fangtasia starts playing. A thumping beat, definitely rap music. Snoop Dogg. I hear a few people from the crowd let loose some murmurs of exasperation. Pam gives off one herself. She looks funnily enough like one vampire who wants to knock her head against a wall.

"Oh, not this song again. Eric's been having it played by the hour. Not good for business."

_Oh, Sookie, let me get in your head._

_Oh, Sookie, let me get in your bed..._

We go straight through the door of his office, which thankfully drowns out all the music.

Eric's sitting in his office chair, turning his Viking sword over and over in his hands. He doesn't look at me as I enter. He doesn't look at Pam, either, for that matter.

"She's here," Pam announces, as though he couldn't tell.

He doesn't say anything in response to that, just a mere deep nod in my direction. It takes me a second to realize another person is in the room, until a vampire steps slowly forward and makes himself known. It's the long haired vampire I saw in here, who got my glass of water at Eric's beck and call that embarrassing night. He gives me a nod, and a grin. He's wearing tight leather pants, and a V-necked 'The Cure' band shirt. All black, of course. I'm pretty sure he is even wearing eye-liner.

"This is Long Shadow, our bartender," Eric says, in a voice as quiet as a mouse. It's lucky I have no problem whatsoever with my hearing, otherwise I mightn't have heard him. I dart him a quick look; He hasn't even so much as looked at me once. I guess his sword is way more interesting to look at this evening. "And you know Pamela, of course."

"Yep. I do."

"Pam, bring in the casual workers," Eric continues as if I haven't spoken, in one of his authoritive voices. _All right, then. I guess we're getting straight down to business. No nonsense here tonight._

Like a faithful soldier, Pam did. She brought in two women. Two poor women that looked excruciatingly nervous, but probably with good reason.

"Ginger, move forward towards Sookie. Sookie, listen in."

The shorter lady of the two stood forward obligingly. I bite back on my tongue to stop myself saying something I would regret later; Something mean directed at Eric, who was being so odd tonight. It isn't the way he absolutely refused to look at me that hurt me a little bit, it was mainly the tone he addressed me in. As though I was a doll. Nothing else, nothing more. Not the girl he was intimate with, on several occasions. As though everything between us has amounted to nothing.

I stand around awkwardly, looking at the woman, Ginger, who was too nervous to meet me directly in the eye.

"What's all this about?" she spoke up, and her voice cracked underneath the weight of her anxiousness.

"Someone has stolen money out of the till," Eric informs her coldly. "If there is one thing I hate most in the world, it is dishonesty. Let Sookie in, and if she finds you innocent, you're lucky. You will be spared."

_Spared?_

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, before I can stop myself. "Are you going to kill the person who did this?"

Of course, he ignores me, which was very lovely of him. Sarcasm meant.

His eyes narrow down at his sword, as he continues turning the sharp blade over and over between his fingers. "Of course, I will. This is the way I do my job. Do not question it."

And he's all business this evening...

"Over my dead body. I agreed to help you, yes. But I sure will not let you kill somebody. If I knew this was what you were intending to do with the person responsible, then I wouldn't have-"

"Do not fucking question me!" He shouts out of nowhere aggressively, and as if to make an unnecessary point, he stabs the edge of the blade into his desk, making the woman in front of me jump and squeak loudly in uneasiness. He gets to his feet so quickly, its almost a blur. "This is more! What's wrong with buying a house?"

I break into a sweat, as a terrible feeling gnaws in my stomach. A feeling of stupidity. What the hell am I doing here? What the hell have I done?

"I refuse to do this for you when you are acting this way," I choke out, feeling myself tremble all over. And then, turning on my heel, I stalk out, leaving everyone in the room staring after me.


	21. Dead as a Log

**I want to thank you all so much for your support and lovely reviews.**

**Hope you enjoy this one. Hoping it isn't terrible, and haha, hoping you won't be thinking 'What the hell?' :( Love you amazing people, so much! Thank you!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

I'm very ashamed to say that as I drove home, I cried like a baby for a few minutes, just to let all my frustration and aggravation out. Driving while crying definitely was a risky and hazardous thing to do, because my eyes started getting so blurry I could hardly see the double lines on the highway after a while.

When I get home and pull off into the driveway, I'm both pleased and concerned to find my Grandmother sitting outside on the porch on the swing outside the front door. Her body is slanted slightly in a weird position, so I'm assuming she fell asleep while waiting up for me, bless her. I feel a bit guilty, because I'm even considering waking her gently so that she'll let me rant and rave on how things with Eric went tonight. When I climb up the steps cautiously and quietly, I realize she's out like a broken and battered flashlight. She's dead to the world, and sleeping so silently like a log.

Literally.

Instantly, I dismiss being rude in waking her just so that I have somebody to talk to. I sit next to her on the swing, feeling not so much in the mood for talking, but for sleeping, like she is.

Sitting so closely to her, it's then I realize something is wrong.

I can't hear her breathing. At all. No snores, no less, and Gran isn't a big snorer. She just gives off little faint huffing noises, from time to time. But she isn't this time. Absolutely nothing comes from her.

Quickly, I wipe my face of all tears and gently push my shoulder against hers. I don't exactly want to startle her awake, and give her a fright. "Gran?" I whisper gently, feeling the nerves choke me as she doesn't respond. Gran isn't usually such a heavy sleeper. "Gran, wake up! You fell asleep on the porch, you silly beautiful woman. Plus, your neck is going to be sore now! You're sleeping in a funny angle!" I hate the quavering in my voice, but I just had a bad feeling.

A very, very bad feeling.

"Gran? Wake up!"

I make myself move into action, by bringing a hand carefully up to her shoulder. I give her a gentle shake, and her head falls forward limply over her chest.

It was then I realize. It hits me so fast, I almost fall onto the porch in a heap with overwhelming panic.

My beautiful Grandmother wasn't sleeping. The reason I can't hear her giving off funny little snores or restless breathing sounds is because she is... dead.

This really was the worst night for me. I suddenly feel so terrible with myself. There I was, minutes ago, sobbing like a hormonal woman in the car over some silly vampire who had treated me with such aloofness this evening and giving me the cold shoulder, and yet, there was something far more important at home to be concerned and upset about.

I want to scream at the top of my lungs to wake myself up. It feels like a horrible dream in a sense. It feels completely unreal, and for a few moments, I refuse to accept that my Grandmother has passed. I want to somehow reverse time and go back to this morning, where Gran was so vibrant and her usual early bird self in the morning, fussing over making me a hot coffee.

I take a deep breath, and compose myself.

I knew what I had to do, it just took me a while to get over the numbing shock. How can you possibly prepare yourself for the death of a loved one? I guess you can't. I guess it's just one of those cruel things about the world. When death comes for a loved one, you sure as hell can bet it comes without warning and without sense, and threatens to rock your world and all sensibility entirely.

With a strange sense of mild detachment, I run inside to the phone. I dial 911.

An ambulance and Police Officer, Andy Bellefleur, was there within five minutes.

* * *

The death of Gran only fully sunk in, once I was trying to reach Jason. He was unreachable, and I had to have called his cell number over five times, only to have nobody pick up. Why is it that a person is unreachable in a time when you truly need them the most? It's the most frustrating and hopeless experience imaginable, because Jason deserved to know our dear Granny had passed away. She was his Grandmother, too. She had always been like our foster-mother, so what in Lord's name was he doing that was so much more important than answering the phone?

I feel a bit silly as I stand outside by all my lonesome on the lawn, out of the police's way. When a team from the ambulance work on putting my Grandmother into a body bag, it's the surrealist image imaginable. It's like I've only just stepped into the set of a murder mystery, and all these people are just actors on stage.

It's also an eye-opener to realize how alone I was on this. I'm standing by myself, crying hysterically, while people fuss around, doing odd things to the house, like searching for any clues or any weapons or any slightest indication of what happened to my Grandmother.

In times like this, it certainly makes you realize who is trustworthy and actually cares about you, and who doesn't. And the fact I was standing around aimlessly, with a wet face and no doubt snot dribbling out of my nose, it became apparent to me that no one cares. The world can be real lonely and hurtful sometimes, but sometimes you've just got to suck it up and take it all in with a grain of salt.

I don't even understand what is going on, when I hear a bustle of noise coming from the back of the ambulance van as they load my Grandmother up inside, several moments later. It's like I'm not really present in the world. I hear murmured shouting, and somebody sounds as if they want to punch the living daylights out of somebody.

"Is that her? Fucking answer me!"

"Sir, I... I don't know what you're talking about. Do you mean the old lady in the body-bag? If so, yeah. It's her." There's a weird noise, the sound of someone choking and spluttering for air, and a few other people jog to the behind of the van hurriedly.

"Release your hold on his neck now!"

"Where is she, then? Where? Answer me!"

"You mean the girl, who's the Granddaughter? She's standing over there by the grass, man! I can't breathe, dude!"

I hear a lot of coughing and retching for air, and then, much to my shock and equal relief, Eric appears from the back of the van, looking very murderous.

He's the very last person I'm expecting to see right now. But on some unconscious level, I think it sinks into me that maybe he does care after all. How funny that Eric Northman is the very first person to come along. It certainly revealed a lot to me, though currently, I feel far too detached to fully understand and appreciate it. I just watch him, as he comes over to me. He's clearly in shock over the whole thing, too, because he doesn't say anything. Maybe he can't? He just puts a hand on my elbow, giving me a bit of a squeeze with his fingers into my skin that I hardly feel. I'm sure its meant to be comforting, but as for now, I feel completely numb and immune to anything. Everything is just going straight past my brain. There's no sense.

"Are you all right?" he asks, after a while. He sounds stunned out of his wits. His voice is completely hollow and exhausted.

"Oh, this is the best night of my life. I get home and discover my favourite woman in the world has passed away. I'm just wonderful." Hate to sound whiny, but it's the truth. And able to see the irony of the evening, I cover my hands over my face, and double over in a fit of laughter. Soon, I'm laughing so hard, and crying- maybe even both- that my legs give out beneath me, and I sink into the grass on my knees. Soon as I hit the lawn, I realize the grass is wet, and I feel all damp and dirty, but oh well.

Eric stands around uncomfortable while I laugh and sob, and laugh and sob, shuffling his shoes on the grass and glaring at his feet, with not really knowing what to do. I suppose after a while he got tired of listening to me having a crazy attack, because he sinks down on his knees to the grass with me and makes a few attempts to put me right. He can't glamour, of course, and he sure already knows that, but I get the feeling he is trying to. He grabs my face between his hands and stares at me for a very long and hard moment, with anxious and fear-stricken eyes into mine. I certainly wish he could glamour me, and put me to a right frame of mind so I wasn't so hysterical right now. It would have helped lots, and though I couldn't exactly help the way I was acting, it was embarrassing for him having to see me like this.

"You returned here soon as you ran off from Fangtasia?"

I make a face at his choice of words, and all I can seem to manage is a curt nod. I can't even begin to find my voice.

"How did you find her?"

I lift my chin, and jerk it over to the chair on the porch, where a few medics were fussing around.

"Over there on the chair?" I nod again. "How did she look? Was there blood?"

I try to trek through my hysterical and foggy brain to think that over. Was there blood? No, not any I could see. She looked very peaceful sitting there, hence why I so foolishly assumed she was just sleeping.

"Perky?" Eric puts his hands on my shoulders and gives me a little, urgent shake. "Was there blood? Did it seem as if she was murdered?"

"No," I answer numbly. "She looked... serene as anything. As if she had almost... passed away while she was dreaming of something beautiful." And then I'm off, sobbing again. I think this time they were mostly happy tears at the expression on her face. He touches my hair with his hand, and after a startled moment of digesting that, I sag into his body in both relief and turmoil. He stiffens, and then a bit awkwardly, he puts his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his shirt. I give out a weird sigh of gratitude at being hugged and comforted by him. He definitely gives super good hugs. "Why are you here?"

"What? You want me to leave?"

"No," I gasp quickly. "Definitely not. Please, don't."

I look past his shoulder blankly at one of the men who steps out behind the van. For some reason, he has his hands wrapped around his throat.

"What's wrong with that man over there? Did you do something to him?"

"I got him into a fucking choke-hold," Eric admits, breathing into my hair, a little embarrassed. "I thought, for a moment there... that it was you in that fucking body-bag. I lost my shit, but I'm glad it wasn't you. I'm... relieved to know that now."

He tightens the hug, pushing his chin into the back of my hair, and we spend an immeasurable amount of time hanging around on the grass, clinging to one another. I hear him give out a long and ragged sigh after a while, blowing my hair around. I'm guessing he could use a good hug himself.

"I thought it was you... and after you left..." I feel him shudder against me. He was full of surprises right now. "... I couldn't stand it if it had been you. I couldn't tolerate that." He makes a weird strangled noise, and whispers into my hair, with quiet desperation, "I love you so fucking much." It's like an outburst, something uncontrollable that curls off his tongue.

I lift my head slowly from his shoulder to meet his eyes. "Huh?" I whisper numbly.

"What?" He can't even stand looking me in my face. "I never said anything, I think you're imagining things," he says quickly, defensively, and I feel him shrug casually underneath my arms. And he probably didn't. I'm probably imagining it, since I'm being so crazy right now. Grief does that to a person, I'm presuming. "I've made a decision. I'm going to buy a house, whether you like it or not," he says firmly and decisively after a moment, I think, just for something to say.

I'm too tired and emotionally dead to think of anything to say to that, so I just let it slide. He's a big boy, after all. He can do whatever he wants. And seeing him here, solely for me, offering me comfort in my time of need when nobody else was around, it made me realize I feel a lot about him. He's the only person that came through for me tonight, and I didn't even have to so much as call him. He just came out of his own accord, and it's truly wonderful of him. Suddenly, the world doesn't seem so bleak and lonely for me, after all.


	22. Bonded

**I want to thank you all so much for your support and lovely reviews.**

**Hope you enjoy this one. Hoping it isn't terrible I apologize for any mistakes or errors :( Love you amazing people!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Jason still wasn't answering his phone when I got away to make another call to him. I can't understand what he is up to that would be more important, than answering his sister's incessant calls. If you open your phone to discover you have over twenty missed calls from the same person, usually you would automatically come to the unpleasant conclusion that it was urgent and you needed to call that person back straight away, right? Well, at least that's how I'm praying Jason will see it.

Eric's being astonishingly supportive throughout the whole ordeal. He's like a big shadow that never leaves my side, as Andy starts away with his regular questioning.

Too bad, I can hear his thoughts. That also meant I could hear his outrageous incriminations directed at both me, and Eric.

At first, he got to thinking there was a high possibility that Eric killed my Grandmother, because he was a vampire and he was acting kind of fishy. By fishy, I mean that he won't look me directly in the eye after his confusing verbal diarrhoea in the yard while hugging me, and Andy automatically concluded that he was a suspicious person because he couldn't stand looking at me, which showed he had a guilty conscience. And then, after a while, the tables were turned on me. He wanted to know where I was for the evening, and why. Luckily Eric was there for back-up as a witness to confirm that I was, in fact, in Fangtasia for the most part.

When I ask Andy what looks to be the most reasonable explanation for Gran's sudden death, he merely said it can take up to forty eight hours for a coroners report to get back to him. In a time like this, I found waiting was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now. Unfortunately the best I can do is wait for two days, and show some good sense and patience. Two horribly long, excruciating two days.

After Andy has said and asked all he possibly can out of me, he shows himself out. And soon as he does, and I watch as his patrol car slowly fades off into the distance, I feel like a terrible wreck. The house is oddly silent, and it's horrible without the comfort of my Grandmother being inside it. It made it a million times worse when I go into the kitchen to find she had Tina's dish out and cat food set on the counter, which told me a little something about what she was doing before her death happened. She was going through the regularities of the evening, and getting ready to feed Tina. But for some reason, something had caused her to decide to skip that and head out onto the porch for a rest. Something just didn't add up. I didn't know why I felt that way, but I did. Something isn't right.

Gran seemed in happy spirits this morning, as she usually did. She was healthy, as any woman her age could be. I know it isn't all that unusual for people to die without warning, but Gran seemed healthy in my books. She had no physical ailments, and she was always happy. Something must've happened to make her step outside for a few moments. Either that, or I was probably going crazy. I just knew my Grandmother, probably better than anyone ever would. It wasn't like her to stop what she was doing to head outside. It's not normal for her.

I'm probably being paranoid. And it seemed paranoid wasn't far off what Eric was thinking about me, while he watched me inspect the house for any clues the police might have missed.

"What are you doing?" he asks, as though it isn't obvious to him.

"Searching around. Something just isn't right."

"Human's die all the time. Did you expect her to write a note or some shit to tell you she'd be dying?"

In some ways I was, even if it was stupidity. It hurts for him to be so blunt, but naturally, he's right. Of course, Gran didn't have special hindsight into when she was going to go to Heaven. It just hurts, though. After some more thorough inspections, I fall down on the couch and rub my hands over my face. I guess I'm not showing the signs of a rational thinker here.

When Eric eventually comes and sits beside me, I fire away with the hard questions. "Why did you come here?"

He frowns at me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you got here pretty fast? And, since I left Fangtasia and we're not exactly on the best of terms, I didn't expect to see you again."

"I flew here. It takes me like five minutes to get here from Shreveport."

I'm too bone-tired and depressed to even start feeling impressed by how short amount of time that was. He must be a fast flyer. "But why did you bother coming here?" I ask, rather bluntly. "Or was it just to yell at me? Or to make it very clear that I can just go to hell, that you're buying a house anyway, and I should just go screw myself?"

He rubs his chin thoughtfully, then gives out a short laugh. "Yes, that sums it up perfectly well. Coming over here and telling you to go 'screw yourself', as you so eloquently put it, was exactly part of my intentions." He rolls his eyes to make it clear on me that he's trying to be funny and sarcastic. "No, honestly. I don't like leaving business unfinished."

"So that's what I am? Unfinished business?"

"You ran out before I so much as even had a chance. I believe that warrants the title 'Unfinished Business'.

"So... why are you here?"

"Why?" He shifts slightly on the couch to place his hand gently on top of mine. "Because I care about you, that's why." He winces and adjusts himself on the couch in discomfort. "Don't make me repeat that again. It sounds... sappy."

I don't know why it shocks me to hear him admit that, but it does. I saw all the signs, sure. I just assumed he was too proud to admit it out loud in the open to me. "Yes, I think I'm really starting to work that out now."

"Took you long enough. You must be really slow."

"Well, excuse me. My Grandmother just died. Shouldn't that grant me a concession on all the insults about my intelligence?" I know he is only playing, but still. It's sort of hurtful and rude. It was a nice distraction, though, I had to admit, rather than dwelling over Gran. Even thinking about her, is all it takes for the waterworks to begin again. Tears trickle down my cheeks, and I find myself wanting to run and hide forever. "I think it's best if you go," I tell him sadly. "Something tells me I'm going to be sooking Sookie tonight, and I don't think that's the me you'd care to be around."

He blinks at me in shock, I think. "What? You actually want me to leave?" He sounds insulted, but I can't tell how sincerely so.

"Kind of." I shrug apologetically. "I feel like getting an early night, or sobbing my heart out. Not sure which. Maybe even both, and I don't think you'll want to be stuck around a crying girl all night. It'll just be a bore."

"I actually don't mind being around you while you're crying. I think you're the only human I don't like crying, I don't find it funny with you. It's similar to watching an animal crying out in pain, while being lit on fire."

"Oh, that's really mean." And kind of scary.

"I think you're in luck," he continues softly, leaning over me on the couch in a somewhat playfully threatening way, with his body, "Because Doctor Northman is here to soothe away all your pain." Oh, drat. Now he's getting ready to play Doctor. I'm certainly not in the mood for it, right now.

"Oh, as much as I am truly fond of Doctor Northman, I can't say I'm in the mood," I sigh heavily. I can't deny his naughtiness was having a somewhat cheering effect on me, though.

"I think you would be surprised of what he is capable of," he says, managing to make that sound even unfairly enticing.

He's winning, and its making me feel downright awful.

"I really can't," I protest weakly. "I'm sincerely not in the right frame of mind for that doctoring side of you right now. I just... can't. I'm too... miserable. I'm sorry!"

This is one vampire who isn't giving up with a fight, and he makes that very clear on me.

In one easy scoop, he throws half of my body over his shoulder while I squeal in alarm, and heads off towards the flight of stairs.

"Please, don't!" I hiss, but he ignores me anyway. He starts climbing up the stairs and its all bumpy and for a second there, I start feeling incredibly ill with guilt. I am a bad person. I really don't think I can do it. It feels in bad taste, especially when Gran just died, but then this is clearly one Doctor ready to get diagnosing. How can I win against that?

"Do you know what I like to do to make myself feel better?" he asks over his shoulder, hardly sounding out-of-breath in the slightest, which is admirable.

"What?" My voice is all shaky and weird. "Yell? Get grumpy?"

"Not even close, but sometimes. Where is your bathroom?"

"Why?"

"Just where is it?" He gets into the hallway on the second floor, and I shriek out directions. "In here?" Bravo. He has managed to find the bathroom.

"Yep. Isn't the old bathtub a clear indicator?"

A light flicks on, and then he's setting me down on my feet.

"Let's have a shower," he says enthusiastically. "This is what I do."

"I don't think I can."

He ignores me again, and pulls the plastic shower curtain to one side roughly. Then he wrings on the taps, and the water surges mercilessly out of the shower head down into the drain. Our shower is combined with the bathtub, and its fairly old and rusty. I'm guessing he doesn't mind that, though, so long as he gets his chance.

On brave impulse and without thinking, I shove him into the direction of the running water with my hands pushing into his lower back, and he makes a very annoyed noise at me, and turns around swiftly. Now he's soaked at the shirt and dripping like a drowned rat, and everything just clings to him. He yanks his shirt off and flings it down on the floor, and my mind and all concerns instantly vanish into mush, just like that. It's terrible.

"Is it working?" he asks, and his hands go down to the button on my jeans.

I'm very saddened to realize that it is. It definitely is.

"Maybe," I admit glumly, hating the truth in that. "Just a little."

"Fucking good," he grumbles, very pleased. His fingers yank my shirt out of where it's tucked from around the band of my jeans, and then he crouches down to take off my shoes and socks slowly, one by one. And then he's peeling off my jeans unapologetically and getting my ankles free. "Be mine," he says after a moment, keeping his eyes glued elsewhere.

I feel a little bit of happiness over that; A tiny spark of energy. "Is that your own personal way of asking if you can be my boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" It comes off his tongue like a dirty word. He shakes his head and laughs darkly. "Perky, I am hardly what you would call a boy. That's insulting."

"What does it mean, then? Should I call you my man-friend? Or my vampire lover even?"

He stands and says something in Swedish. Something he doesn't much care on translating for me.

And then he says something else in the language, waving a hand in front of his crotch, leaving me thoroughly confused.

"What? English, please."

"Undress me now." Now that I can fully understand. Since he's already shirtless, it doesn't give me too much of a hard job to do. It requires me no mental effort in unbuckling his leather belt and unfastening the top button of his jeans. I slide down his zipper, and push my fingers around inside. Mr. Commando. As he hisses quietly through his teeth, his fangs greet me. He grabs my wrists gently in his hands, and guides my hands up all over his chest, touching various places and around his flat and hard nipples.

"Thanks so much for being here," I say breathlessly, and I have to swallow down a hard lump that forms in my throat. "I can't imagine how I would cope if you hadn't turned up the way you had. It was really unexpected of you, and I appreciate it. It helps not to be alone in a time like this."

"I think it would make you feel better if you let me share your pain," he says, and there is an implication in his tone of voice that I don't quite understand. "That way, we can grieve together, and I know all about grieving the loss of a dear one." And yes, he was certainly right on that. No need to ask who he is talking about. Godric."We will be stronger together, and we will heal together."

I glance up at him questioningly.

"How do you want it?" he asks hoarsely, sounding a bit like he has something stuck in his throat.

"Want it?"

"There are many places. You decide."

And then, I get it. "You want me to drink some of your blood?"

"Yes. Why the fuck not?" He sure sounds keen on it.

"What will happen if I do?"

"Not much." He shrugs and eyes me intently. "You may just feel... different."

"How different? Will I become a vampire?"

"No, of course not." He sounds irritated by my asking. Oops. "Drink from me, and you will become mine. What you feel, I feel. What hurts you, hurts me. I want you to take your pain, and give it to me. I will carry it for the both of us. I've been doing it for an extremely long time. I am ready to heal, and in time, we will both be healed together." He doesn't need to say anymore. If that isn't a somewhat sweet thing to say to somebody, then I don't know what is. And maybe I want the pain to go away, for a little while?

"All right. How do we do this then?" I try to at least sound brave about it, even though I sure as hell don't feel it.

"You make the decision," he says again simply. "What will it be? Neck? Wrist?" And he goes on until he runs out of options. Every body part, you can bet, he's up for it. Some places I blush at him mentioning, because I can't ever imagine biting someone in those mentioned places, let alone drinking blood in those areas.

"Uh, I think I'm gonna go with the most easy option," I say hastily. "And that's your hand."

"Suit yourself." He sounds a bit put-off, and I know it's because I haven't opted for the option below the belt. Literally. He brings his right hand up to my mouth, pressing his palm into the line of my lips. "Bite."

"Oh, I can't do that!"

"Bite," he orders, a little more firmly. "I'll like the pain, anyway."

"Fine, then," I give in reluctantly. "Since you put it like that..." Steeling myself, I curl back my top lip until I taste his skin. And, finding no sense in prolonging it, I bite down, as though I'm biting into an apple, or a fried chicken wing to tear the fleshy meat off.

He gives out a grunt, and it doesn't sound like a pained one, either. No, he sounds aroused, surprisingly.

"Now drink," he says, in a low and ragged breath. I suck hard against his palm, accidentally making a slurping sound while I'm at it, and he makes another noise that comes from deep within his throat. Yep, it's definitely turning him on. While it isn't the most pleasant taste to swallow down, I find I manage quite satisfactorily. After a while, he pulls his skin away, and I take it as my green-light to stop sucking.

He smiles at me victoriously, showing fang, removes my shirt, steps out of his jeans, and then we move into the shower.

He pulls the plastic curtain to block us, and moves in from behind me until I feel him right up against me. Erection up against the back of my legs, bare chest scraping against my shoulder blades and all. For some reason, I feel like I'm bursting with confidence. I'm not so much daunted with being naked in front of him anymore. Maybe it's his blood working quickly inside of me, or maybe it's just that I'm too numb to feel anything else?

Well, maybe not as numb as I think. He leans down, presses a kiss into my soaked shoulder, and my heart goes haywire with delight.

"Now," he breathes into the line of my shoulder, teeth and fangs grazing gently, "We are truly one."

And then, he teaches me next how bodies can connect and be one as well.

He pulls me up so that my back is against the cool tiles behind me, and he takes the full weight of the streaming water, as he puts his hands behind my backside.

"Put your legs around me," he says, with unfamiliar desperation in his voice. My legs comply willingly, and I attach myself around him like a barnacle.

"I still don't think its right to do this now," I whimper, and I really don't think I'm able to. I feel bad for doing this so quickly after Gran's passing. I can still feel it weighing down heavy on my mind. But astonishingly, turns out I can. I well and truly can, and all it takes is him putting his mouth over mine reverentially to royally silence that inner doubt. And it's odd, because the pleasure is intensified for some reason. It's almost better than the other two times we did this together. Doctor Northman sure is a very good mood-enhancer.

When there isn't any real Nurses or people for him to frighten off around, anyway.

**Hope you liked this one?** **I'm sorry if you think the story is really bad? I get terrible doubts when updating, a kind of sick anxious feeling in my stomach haha. Next chapter at Gran's funeral we will meet someone who will become very close to Sookie, and she will discover a few things about herself. Hoping you like this Eric and Sookie? I know the story can be silly at times, and Eric is very embarrassed about his feelings and letting Sookie know them, but things will change over time. So, I'm sorry! Thank you all so much for being sweet and lovely and so supportive! You're all so nice! So thank you! x**


	23. Ruben

**Firstly, I want to send a big and special thanks to my new Beta, BreathesGirl. I've never had a Beta before, so I thank you very much for your time in doing this, and for being so understanding with guiding me through it. Virtual hugs to you for being so kind and wonderful. And virtual hugs to everybody else who reads this story, and for the alerts I've received. You're all so amazing; It leaves me feeling so humbled, so thank you all, and much love!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

It's amazing how shower sex can somehow brighten your mood. I didn't think it would but it did in an odd way. It left me feeling refreshed and glowing with energy. Judging by Eric's demeanour it would seem he felt exactly the same way. Who knew sex could get two people out of a funk?

I'm quickly learning that Eric's mental silences are irresistible to me: I can really use the peace and quiet of Eric's mind: Especially after finding my dead Grandmother earlier tonight.

The pair of us, still damp from the shower and high off sex, head into my room where Eric indicates that I should sit down so he can brush my hair. Obediently I sit and let him get to work. Really, what girl doesn't like a man fussing over her and pampering her a bit? It's like a relaxing holiday for me.

My hair is still wet so he is being extra careful not to get it snagged in the bristles of my hairbrush. I feel him straighten up on the bed behind me, take my hair gently in his hands and part it into three long, thick strands.

"My hair used to be as long as yours is now. It was almost the same colour too," he said.

"Really?" I laugh incredulously. I try to picture him with hair as long as mine but find it really hard to imagine: I think I like his short hair.

"It was." I can hear amusement in his voice, "My mother used to braid it." He starts to braid my hair slowly "She used to do this for me when I was a boy, I think."

"You think? " I ask in a relaxed whisper. "Can't you remember?"

"When you live for as long as I have you find you tend to forget things after a little while," he says a little more forcefully; as though it ought to be obvious. "Certain events get... hazy. Besides, my human life isn't something I like to reflect on all that often."

"Why not?" I ask wonderingly.

"It was just an extremely... unpleasant time for me. I don't particularly like discussing it with anyone. I haven't even discussed it with Pamela."

"Unpleasant? How?" I sound like an irritating five-year-old almost, snooping mercilessly for answers.

I am truly curious though: About his past life and how he lived as a human many, many centuries ago. Who wouldn't be intrigued by that? Especially if they just so happened to have the chance I do to chat with a thousand-year-old Viking.

"Did you have any brothers or sisters?" I prompt: eager to break the tense silence coming from him.

"I did actually. I had one sister," he confesses in a low and barely audible voice. His reluctance to talk about it is almost palpable. His hands pause in their task of braiding my hair, "She was a baby when she was murdered. My mother was middle aged when she was murdered, as was my father."

"Oh, sorry," I whisper hastily: feeling guilty for having asked.

"Don't be," he says as he resumes his task. He sits for a very long moment, lost in thought, I think. "Our home was attacked one evening. Wolves slaughtered my entire family."

"Wolves?" I repeat, shocked. "Are you serious?"Even as I foolishly say the words I know his is being one-hundred-percent honest with me.

"Yes, I am. They weren't just regular wolves, either: They were werewolves." He sounds so...sad, almost like a lost little boy looking for his Mommy. Geeze, it's painful to hear because he has lost so much. He lost not only his vampire father, Godric, but his human family too.

"Werewolves?" I ask incredulously.

"Yes, werewolves."

Well, damn. I didn't even know werewolves existed. How is that possible?

"Do you remember the evening I came and met your Grandmother for the very first time?"

"Of course I do." How could I forget? I feel a pang of sadness and grief over the memory of my Grandmother meeting him for the first time; It feels...strange remembering that she won't be around anymore. "I remember everything that happened that night."

After a moment he admits nervously, "That is the reason I was so angry when talking about my Father's crown." I lift myself slowly onto my knees and swivel around so I am facing him on the bed; He looks wary, he is afraid of revealing too much to me. "What I said that evening is true; I don't have the crown in my possession, somebody else does." He licks his lips nervously.

"Who?" I whisper sadly, waiting with bated breath to hear the answer.

"It was stolen the night my family was slaughtered by the wolves. The wolves were part of a clan... under the leadership and guidance of a vampire."

"Did you find out who the vampire was that was responsible for murdering your family and taking the crown?"

"I did not," he says as he looks quickly up at the ceiling and runs trembling fingers through his hair. "Godric and I, we..." He stops for a moment, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again they are so hard with rage and moist with tears that it's overwhelming. "He agreed to help me find the vampire responsible. We searched for months on end and he swore to me that I would get my vengeance for the murder of my human family. I never got it." He frowns bitterly as he brings his eyes back down to meet mine, searching for any level of understanding. "Even now, I don't know who was responsible. Godric's and my searching was, for the most part, fruitless. We achieved nothing, we found out nothing. This is why I loathe talking about it with anyone. It brings back certain... feelings I haven't felt in quite some time. The hopelessness of not fully knowing who was responsible: the regret that I was unable to fulfill my desires for vengeance. I've just had to learn to... let go."

Tentatively I reach up to caress his cheek. Much to my relief, and surprise, he lets me without so much as a scolding.

"It was exactly the same with Godric," he continues after a moment, "I had the same failure in getting vengeance on the humans who were responsible for killing him." He swallowed audibly and his voice turns so grim and shaky with self-loathing that it chills me to the bone. "That is mainly why I loathe humans in the same way that I loathe wolves. It may be unfair, but aside from you, most humans are nothing but scum to me."

"It is unfair," I can't hide the sheer disgust in my voice, "You can't blame others for the death of Godric when they never did it. You can't fit all people into the same mould." I try to give him a reassuring smile but my mouth feels tight and pulls against my cheeks. "It's just... ridiculous, but in some ways, I can understand that. I can, as much as I am able to anyway."

He stares at me for a long moment, while he decides what to say next. "It is the only thing left that brings me joy and satisfaction. I know I am stronger than humans and I use it to my advantage, perhaps wrongly so: But it... brings me joy to know that I am one step closer to having my retaliation on the humans that murdered Godric. It might not be imposed directly on those that murdered him, but other human's are the closest I can find."

"What did these other humans do to him exactly?" I murmur with the little bit of breath have left.

His voice is so quiet that it's barely audible, "I felt Godric's absence before I was truly aware that he was gone. When you lose a Maker, the hollowness that seeps into you is so strong that it is almost as though you are missing the one piece that kept you intact and kept you in line. I wasn't present at the time of his death; we had parted ways long before that." I fold my hands in my lap. I won't follow through with the urge to hug him. "It was reported to me by Stan, another vampire who was with Godric at the time. Apparently Godric was ambushed by humans in his daytime resting place. They seized him and tortured him." He takes in a deep, uneven breath and lets it all out in a whoosh. "It went on for hours and the humans did everything they could think of to prolong it and make sure he suffered tremendously. I'll spare you the gory details but according to Stan there wasn't anything he could do about it since he was literally dead himself until dark."

"I'm so sorry." It hardly sounds like a helpful thing to say but there is no denying that I truly am sorry.

"Everything you've probably heard about me, Perky, is true," I try to conceal my shock but something tells me that I'm not completely successful, "Aside from biting off nipples, of course. That one isn't true, and I can assure you, I have better taste than that." He gives a short, emotionless laugh. "Whatever else people have told you about me, you should believe them. There is a reason why I have a reputation for being ruthless, especially when it comes to dealing with humans. I haven't treated many kindly and it sort of shames me to admit that. Now, hopefully... you can understand why. As you said, it isn't fair to take it out on humans when they most likely weren't the ones responsible for Godric's demise, but that's just the way it is with me."

Wow? What's a girl supposed to say to that?

"I can be mean and brutal in the way I deal with things. I can hurt humans and there isn't a single fucking thing that can stop me." During this part his hands close over mine and he starts rubbing his hands over mine almost absently. It reminds me, oddly enough, of the way a man holds his hands over the radiating warmth of a fire after a long and cold day outside. He purses his lips together and blinks at me in a deeply meditative way. "I admit that when I first met you in my office that night I was repulsed. You were a human, you represented all the things I despised because of those who murdered Godric. At the same time I felt the fluttering, and it confused the shit out of me, and frightened me."

There it was, the fluttering!

"I have lived many years feeling nothing but anger and grief over my losses, then you came along and suddenly I was feeling... all these crazy things I've never felt before. I thought I was... ill or something with a stomach bug, which doesn't affect vampires. I couldn't understand it. It was unbelievable."

A slow, soft smile spreads over his face and he tosses his head violently, as if astounded by it. "Then, I had my most one and only loyal human contact, Ruben, get information on you and he informed that you were a waitress at Merlotte's in Bon Temps." Hmm. That answered how he managed to find out where I worked: like a stalker would. "So, I phoned you and, as you know, it didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped. I went to your bar, and the fluttering happened again. Trust me: For a thousand-year-old who hasn't felt that way before, it scared the living shit out of me. It also crushed and, embarrassed me. It made me feel vulnerable when I know myself to be invulnerable."

His eyes soften with good-hearted humour and bright annoyance. "You are the oddest human I have ever met. I... I like that. I am very fond of this feeling. It has made me realize that by loathing humans I have... lost a chance to associate with them, have fun with them, like I do with you. This is honestly the most fun I can say I've had in years."

"I have fun with you, too," I whisper back, touched.

His eyes quickly jerk towards something and a faraway look appears. He releases my hands with a gentle sigh. "Unfortunately, Perky, this conversation will have to continue another night," he says with regret. Quicker than my eyes can follow, he is pulling up his jeans. "I have to leave: dawn is coming."

"Oh," I whisper, sadly. "Okeydokey, I understand." Really that was about both things; Him having to go off and retreat into his coffin during daylight hours and my newfound understanding into the way he is. It feels good to finally understand him a little bit better.

"As for tomorrow: I've instructed Ruben to come and stay with you for a while. He'll get a few things together for you since I can't be here myself, for obvious reasons. If he comes in without notice trust that he will cause you no harm, unless he wants to die at my hand anyway."

"Um, all right." His telling me this so casually is startling though I have to admit; knowing a feared vampire sure does have its occasional perks. "What'll he be doing?" I ask curiously.

"That is classified business. You'll find that out tomorrow when he arrives," Mr. Secretive says.

Once he is dressed I follow him to the front door even though I figure he knows the house well by now.

I lean against the door and lay my cheek against the wood. I haven't stayed home by myself before since Gran was usually around. It'll be so strange without her. It's definitely going to be a long and rocky night . "Eric," I say.

He pauses on the porch to turn back and look at me. "Mmmm?"

"Does that vampire, Bill, still live next door?"

"He does. Why do you ask?"

"What if my Grandmother was murdered? What if she didn't die of natural causes?" That thought has been bugging me all night, that dreadful possibility.

"You said there wasn't any blood?"

"I know I did. But what if someone did do something to her?"

It's all I can ask until I get the coroner's report back: What If...?

"When does the report get back?"

"In a few days."

"When it does, get back to me with the results. If it comes back as something even remotely odd, I'll look into it."

I nod silently, trusting him on that.

"And then, after that, we'll move into action."

"Action?"

His hard blue eyes meet mine dangerously, "Then we'll find out whoever did it and we'll kill them. If I can't get my chance at revenge, you can bet you will get yours."

I don't say anything to that; I simply stand there and watch him until he rockets into the night sky and out of sight faster than my mind can comprehend. I stand by the front door for a moment, filled with torment. I am disgusted with myself at the small surge of gratification that floods me. I am truly a horrible person. What good Christian gets their socks off at the idea of retaliation?

There is a simple answer to that: A good Christian girl doesn't do that. That good Christian girl obviously wasn't me anymore, I thought sadly.

* * *

The next morning I wake to an empty but brightly lit house.

It takes me awhile to remember Gran won't be in the house with me any longer, won't be making her usual noises as she wakes up for the day and it leaves a heavy weight of depression on my shoulders. My melancholy recedes a bit when the doorbell rings.

I'm guessing it's this visitor Eric arranged for me although only heaven knows why he did.

In a rush, I throw clean clothes on and bolt down the stairs to answer the door. I nervously scrub at my face with my hands and make sure my hair is neat enough for visitors.

"Who is it?" I call out nervously.

"Uh, my name's Ruben," a thick, heavily accented male voice answers. "Eric sent me."

When I open the door his looks definitely register with my foggy brain. He looks like Eric's type of company: very thuggish and boyish, with a scruffy unshaven chin and deep blue eyes that look me up and down intently in awed surprise and reveal that I'm not exactly what he was expecting to see. He's wearing a hooded leather jacket with a tight black shirt underneath combined with faded blue denim jeans, worn white sneakers that look very dirty, and to top it all off, he has a Boston Red Sox baseball cap slouched over his forehead and is holding a lit cigarette between his index and middle fingers. His other hand is hidden behind his back in a rather suspicious way.

"You work for Eric?" I ask, slightly surprised.

"I do. Can I come in?"

"Sure, but you're going to have to put that cigarette out first."

"Yeah, of course." He throws a smile my way, one that makes him look somehow less threatening and a little more friendly. He tosses the cigarette butt on the porch at his feet and squishes the lit end with the tip of his shoe: making a loud scuffling sound. "That better now that my cigarette's out? May I come in now?"

"Yes, you may." I step over to one side of the door to allow him entrance. "Come on in. You want some coffee?"

Whatever he's expecting me to say he obviously wasn't expecting that. "Oh, yes. Yes, thank you. A cup of coffee would be great. Cheers."

"I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I say over my shoulder as he follows me uncertainly into the kitchen. "How do you take it?" I ask as I pull two coffee mugs out, and set them by the pot.

"Uh, take it?" he whispers, sounding confused.

I spare a quick glance at my visitor, "You know, your coffee?"

"Oh, that's right." He laughs; a thick and anxious one that bubbles up in his throat. "Just two sugars and milk, thanks."

"Sure, I'll get right on it. You make yourself comfortable. Feel free to take a seat Mr. Ruben."

He looks over at the kitchen table and chairs before taking a hesitant step towards the chair facing me. "Oh, I almost forgot this," he laughs, again, and draws the hand still hiding behind his back around to the front: He's holding a bouquet of pretty flowers out to me. They are white lilies: Eric must have informed him of my Grandmother's passing. "I heard about your loss. My condolences."

"Oh. Thank you." I smile nervously and accept the flowers from him.

"Yeah, no problem."

I hear the chair squeak loudly as he pulls it out from the table and sits. I hum to myself as I make our coffee. I can feel his eyes on me, assessing me, while I work. When it's ready I set the carton of milk square on the table, with our cups and the coffee pot, just in case he decides he could use a refill. He salutes me with his mug gratefully.

I sit down in the chair facing him, grasping my steaming cup. We stare at one another, assessing each other curiously for one very awkward and long moment. This was anything but the type of man I was expecting Eric would send this morning. I don't even know why he did,: Unless he felt I needed company during a difficult time maybe?

After a while he decides to busy himself by drinking his coffee. He drinks it in one long, thirsty gulp, pours himself another one, and salutes me again

"Did Eric explain exactly why he sent you here?" I ask just to break the nervous tension surrounding two strangers.

"He never explained much." He drums his fingers against the mug then lays his hands out on the table: clenching and unclenching his hands. His knuckles look bruised from where I'm sitting. What did Eric say this guy did for him? "He just said you were going through a difficult time, what with your Grandmother passing and all."

"Right. Have you worked for Eric long?"

"Ever since I can remember, yeah. He got me out of a tight spot back when I was a kid."

"And what tight spot was that?"

"Well, you know... just when you're a kid and you got problems." He shrugs and gives me an apprehensive look. "My mother was a drug addict, and my father... well, he wasn't around much. I needed some cash to get me by. It turned out Eric was looking for a guy he could rely on."

"What does Eric have you do?"

I can tell that my questions are unnerving him. He leans back in the chair, pulls off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through his hair, scratching around on his scalp. His hair is closely cropped and brown. "General stuff here and there," He shrugs as he slides his cap back on and sighs deeply. "You know, the usual jobs. So, you work as a waitress, huh?" Somebody is deliberately trying to evade the question, that's for sure.

"I do. I work at Merlotte's."

"Cool." He takes another long gulp of his coffee. When he starts to pour himself another mug full he pauses, clears his throat gently, and seems to finally remember his manners. "Do you mind if I have another?" he finally remembers to ask.

"No, you go right ahead," I say as I wave my hand to indicate he should help himself, aiming to be polite.

"Thanks. So, are you Eric's woman?"

I almost choke on my mouthful of coffee. "Eric's woman?"

"Yeah like are you... uh, dating the bloodsucker?

"No, I wouldn't call it dating," I answer and attempt to smile.

"He's all right," he continues as if I need his approval, "for a bloodsucker, I mean. He isn't half bad. He saved me when I could have gone down the wrong road. He basically saved my life and kept me out of trouble."

"Good for you."

"Yeah. He saved me." He smiles again, showing me his teeth which are surprisingly straight and white. Nice teeth: even if he does look like a seedy character.

"Is that an accent I detect?" I ask, hoping right. There's most definitely a slightly noticeable difference in the way he pronounces certain words.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm from Boston originally. I moved to-" Unfortunately the phone decides to ring shrilly, cutting him off. I send him an apologetic look before I dart over to answer it. It's Sam.

"Hey, cher. I noticed you're not at work today."

"Yeah Sam, my Grandmother died last night."

"Oh, no," he sighs sympathetically, "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks Sam. I'm still shocked myself."

"You need some company? Take as many days off as you need. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks. I think I'll take you up on the time off. As for company, I've already got some." I peer over at my visitor who is quite obviously, and rudely, eavesdropping. To his credit he is trying to be subtle about it.

"Oh. You've got someone over?" Sam asks curiously.

"Yes," I admit uneasily.

"Is it your brother?"

"No Sam. I still can't reach Jason. Please, if he pops in, send him over soon as possible."

"Will do, Sookie. I promise. Who's your company?"

"Just a new friend," I answer quickly.

"What's his name?"

Oh, Christ. Why does Sam even care to know? "Uh, his name is Ruben, if you really need to know."

"Ruben?" Thankfully, the name doesn't sound familiar to Sam in the slightest.

"Sam, I've got to hang up now."

"Jay," my visitor rumbles out from behind me hurriedly, "Jay Ruben." I turn to look at him. Much to my surprise he is standing at my side by the counter, nursing his empty coffee cup. Something tells me he doesn't want another refill either.

"Can I talk to him?"

"Sam! No, you may not!" I slam down the phone, exasperated. It takes me a moment to remember I still have a guest.

I try to look as friendly as possible as I turn to look at him. He gives me a shy smile and sets his empty cup on the counter.

"Look, I'll be off now since it seems that you're busy."

I feel an awful amount of disappointment and panic at the thought of being alone. "Please don't," I plead desperately. "Why don't you just stay a while longer and we can talk some more?"

"Well, all right," he agrees after a moment of consideration, "I guess I could stay a little longer."

I smile at him thankfully. It seems like I need all the company I can get right now after all.


	24. Take a Bite of My Good Girl Meat

**Hey guys, so sorry it took me so long. I had a tough personal thing happening at home where there was an unexpected death of a family friend. Thanks all for your kind reviews and alerts. I hope you enjoy this one, and that you're still interested in the story? ****This chapter hasn't been corrected by my lovely Beta, Breathesgirl, as yet, I think my email isn't working with letting me correspond to her, so all errors I apologize for, I did try to correct them, but Breathesgirl is amazing at doing Beta work, so I'm sorry to all. Hope everything is going well with everyone, and hoping you enjoy this one.**

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**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Jay helps himself to another mug of coffee, while I go through my daily routine. I try to distract myself as much as possible, without thinking too much on everything. I go outside and water the garden, looking around the yard. It really has turned out to be a lovely day; If only Gran was still alive to see it...

I thought since drinking Eric's blood, I might have changed a bit. I'm very pleased to know I haven't; I feel same as normal, but a bit refreshed and oddly impenetrable, which I know for a fact is truly not the case. I'm still just a simple, vulnerable human, after all. I'm glad to know that the instance the sunlight hits my skin, it leaves me feeling merely energized and not at all horrible. Sunlight won't kill me, just because I drank a thousand-year-old vamps blood.

After a while, Ruben comes out and lights a cigarette. I can feel his eyes on me, while I work in the garden. I get out the garden rake and start weeding. Activity makes me feel better, and it takes my mind off everything. Being productive certainly helps in times like these. I can feel sweat on my brow as I start pulling out the weeds growing in the garden. Ruben comes down the steps and he looks sheepish and anxious. He is holding a cell phone.

"Uh, Miss. Stackhouse? Mr. Northman is on the other line. He wishes to speak with you."

I stare up at him, stunned. How is it possible Eric can call me at this hour? It's still daylight. I fight the urge to scowl as I wipe my dirty hands on my trousers, and receive the phone from him. This better be something good. Or maybe it is for something bad? Has something happened? Swallowing anxiously, I press the phone up to my ear.

"Hey. Eric? It's me."

"Hello, Perky." His voice sounds... odd. It sounds like he is in a bubble or something.

"What's up? Why do you sound all weird, like you're underwater or something?"

"I am underground in my coffin."

"Oh, wow." I certainly wasn't expecting that. Then again, I sort of am. "Right. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Ruben is there, I take it."

"Yes, he certainly is." I peer over at my seedy companion, who is watching his feet and taking compulsive drags from his cigarette. "Can't say I'm too fond of his nasty little smoking habit. But hey, what can I do?"

"He tends to be on the quiet side. He's a deep-thinker. But he is extremely trustworthy." Hmmm. Deep-thinker, quiet. Looking at him, that is exactly how I would describe him.

"You never did explain to me why you sent him to my house?" I ask him, feeling my pulse race with suspicion. "Is there a reason, or did you just feel sorry for me and decided I needed to have company?" I try to open up my mind to the man standing around smoking, but to my astonishment, I hear nothing. There is a faint hum his brain-waves give off, but not the slightest indication of what he is thinking. I've certainly never experienced something like that before. Usually, I can hear human's straight up from the get-go. I think that tells me that Ruben is something else, other than human. I mightn't know what, and I consider asking him. But since I know how terrible it feels from experience for people to ask you directly to your face what you are, I don't. I don't want to be rude, after all.

"Both, actually. I have my reasons."

"Which is?" I prompt, waiting for it eagerly. "He was sort of vague on what he said it was he does for you. Care to put my mind at rest?"

He inhales sharply on the other line. "Perky. I- I have to go. There is a spider crawling up my leg. It's fucking huge, it has... fifteen legs and everything. Ah, it's furry. I... bye," and then he hangs up quickly.

I laugh out loud to myself, unable to believe the nerve he has. That definitely tops it as the most lamest excuse to evade a question on the phone. I'm going to have to try that excuse sometime. Huffing underneath my breath, I decided to give up on my gardening. I turn off the hose, and walk back up the porch to my strange companion.

I hand him back his phone. "Thanks for that. Look, I'm gonna go inside and keep busy. If you want me, I'll probably be upstairs doing house work." I had a lot of work to do, though I didn't know where to start. Ruben nods at me, and inside I go. I head upstairs and inspect my Grandmother's empty room. Sadness hits me, at how silent and empty her room is. How untouched it is.

I am still waiting to hear news from the coroners into the reason of her death. I am also still waiting for my annoying brother to call me back, like any decent sibling would. Grief runs up into my spine and into my throat as I sit down on her bed. I still can't believe she is gone. This was going to take a very long time to get used to. It just isn't going to be the same without her. Although you somewhat expect someone in your family is going to pass away eventually, you're never ready for it when it does come.

While I sit there, drowning in my pity, I hear a noise from outside.

Two men are screaming at each other outside on the porch. This isn't good.

Alarmed, I race downstairs and out the front door. Turns out my hearing wasn't playing funny tricks on me. Jay Ruben has a young man in a headlock, while the man struggles and pushes against him.

At first, I assess Jay Ruben's fighting technique, and evaluate it as impressive. Until I realize just who it is he has pinned underneath him, that is. I see blood on Jay Ruben's fists, and him mashing a guy's nose into the dirt by the front porch.

And that poor guy getting creamed is... my _brother_.

In hindsight, I really should have left the two men to it, ran inside, and pretended not to hear the scuffle breaking between the pair like two boys in a school yard fight. But hey, it's _my brother_ here, not just any bully Jay was pounding his fists into.

So, in a move I deem now as potentially suicidal, I run down the porch steps to intervene. I lunge down, grab both men by the earlobe like I'd seen my dearly deceased Grandmother do one time, cry menacingly, "Will you two cut that out? Jay, that's my brother you're hurting there! Stop it!" and twist with my fingers, hard. Both men yelp, and Jay Ruben, clearly easily on the defensive forgot who I was just for one minute. He whirls his elbow at me effortlessly, manages to strike me hard in the jaw, and before I know it, I'm tumbling to the ground in agony like a sack of cement.

Last thing I hear as I collide into the wet grass on my backside with my skull crushing into it, is Jay's panicked voice in my ear, very intelligently screaming, "Oh, shit! What the fuck have I just done to Eric's woman?"

It's obvious he does mean that literally, because next thing I know I'm unconscious.

When I come to, first thing I realize is that I'm laying long ways on my Grandmother's plush couch.

Next thing I'm aware of is that I'm hurting all over my face. Ruben sure clocked a good punch in.

Two people were in the room with me, sitting around. I can hear them talking and one of their thoughts, alerting me to their presence. I sit up slowly, opening my eyes with some troublesome effort, ignoring my throbbing jaw, to find Ruben sitting in the one-seater chair across from me. He looks sick with nerves, as though he has only just ruined a little kid's birthday party or something.

And no wonder. He just beat a woman. I'm sure that wasn't a confidence booster for any decent man.

"How are you feeling?" he asks me nervously, in a scratchy, hoarse voice.

"Like crap," I admit truthfully, hearing the painful raspy sound of my voice.

He slides off the one-seater and approaches me anxiously. Then he kneels in front of my face. His face is creased with worry. "God, I'm so sorry about that," he whispers. "Not only for hitting you, but for also causing a commotion when it was only just your brother. Eric never told me you had one."

"I think now would be the best time as any to tell me what you really do for Eric, and why you're here. How'd you learn to fight like that?"

He looks a little pale at my question. "Well, you see, I do jobs for Eric." I nod, ignoring the twanging in my jaw that comes along with it. "I kind of round-up human perpetrators for him. Guy's known to sell V, guys that are known to... hurt bloodsuckers. He takes his job as sheriff seriously, which you've no doubt worked that out yourself."

I feel a little woozy myself over his confession. "Right." I try to think that over carefully. "So, you're practically helping him catch people who disobey the law? You bring the human's in to him, and he... he does whatever it is he does with them?"

"Pretty much, yeah." He nods repetitively, looking me over grimly. "He asked me over to look after you. I'm not sure why myself. This is a different... task than what I'm used to. All I can say is that he obviously cares about you. Maybe he thought you needed protection?"

"Protection from what, though?" Well, hell. This isn't something I'm exactly pleased with hearing. I knew I was perfectly capable of looking after myself.

"Don't know from what, exactly. Guess he felt it was necessary, though."

Someone clears their throat loudly from near me. I look over at the sound, shocked to see my brother sitting there beside me on the arm rest. I can't even see his eyes- he is wearing dark, shaded sunglasses, for reasons I'm unsure of.

"I'll give you two some privacy," Jay Ruben goes on quietly. "I'll just be outside." I watch him as he leaves, then sit up slowly to face my brother. Lot of emotions are stirred within me at the sight of him; He's been missing from my life, for however many long days. I feel mad, pleased, and nervous to see him, all at once.

I'm so mad at him for not getting back to me on the phone immediately all those times I've called that I want to simultaneously wring him by the neck and hug him to death. Clearly, hugging him wins over, which is fortunate; Hugging it out is the far more rational response, and not a cruel outburst of violence. And besides, he's literally the only family I've got left now. What good would be done in killing him?

Instead I hurl myself at him and break down into inconsolable tears. I thought I was all cried out from all the nights before, with finding Gran dead, and that I was too brain dead to do it again. Obviously not. He doesn't hug me back, or even makes the attempt to wrap his arms around me to return it; He simply leans back against the arm-rest idly and lets me heave into his shirt.

"What happened?" he asks finally after a while. His voice sounds off, and I hardly recognize it. He sounds almost as if he is battling one severe and nasty cold; He sounds all nasally and sluggish.

I lean back to look at him carefully, still confused over why he is bothering to hide his eyes from me. He's wearing dark tinted sunglasses to hide his eyes from me, which isn't normal for my brother. He usually takes them off soon as he steps inside the front door, since there isn't any decent enough reason to wear sun glasses inside. His skin looks flushed and ruddy, and the clothes he is wearing looks as though they haven't been ironed or washed in days. His hair looks a bit more longer and unkempt than I last saw him, which tells me I haven't seen my brother in quite a while. How long has it been? Around two weeks now? I can't help but wonder if his new girlfriend is the reason for that. Maybe it was the real deal for Jason, after all? Maybe he was finally ready to settle down and play responsible and committed boyfriend to a woman? Took him long enough, though.

"You relax in here, and I'll make the pair of us some coffee," I urge him gently. He certainly looks as though he needs a bit of caffeine in him, and truth be told, I really needed some to wake myself up. "And then I'll tell you all about it."

Jason looks indecisive for a moment, before he throws a shrug my way. Keeping myself busy and trying not to think too much, I get started on making our mugs of coffee. I'm astonished to find it is easier this morning blocking Jason's mind out. It isn't a big effort as it usually is, and something tells me its Eric's blood that might be a contributing factor in that. Although Eric didn't explain much about what this whole blood exchange ordeal consisted, I had to admit it was somewhat helping in giving me an easier time. I didn't feel as fragile or upset. I feel like I'm able to sit back a bit and think more coherently to get my head straight.

I feel as much a mess as Jason looks. Since I just got punched and Sam so kindly offered for me to take a few days off, I had accepted, because I knew it was the best thing to do. It enabled me time to talk to Jason about everything. We could make up for lost time in not seeing each other for the past weeks. Jason clearly doesn't mind me getting around in nothing more than old jeans and a wrinkly shirt with my ratty and uncombed hair, anyway.

Once I'm done with our coffees, I carry the mugs into the living room and scrutinize my brother again as I place his mug on the coffee table. I look at him, feeling a little sad for him, as well as a little exasperated. I want to demand an explanation into why he looks so worn-out and rough. He can't even sit still, for goodness sake. Apparently Sam filled him in already on Gran's death, it was why he came here so abruptly the way he did. He's very restless, and I can't tell whether it is our Grandmother's death that has something to do with that.

I sit close to him on the couch, embracing my hot mug in my hands, and he turns his head a bit, just to show me he knows I'm there. I really wish he would remove the glasses, though. It's impossible to see what is going on in those eyes of his.

"So tell me, Sook," he pleads slowly. "What happened with Gran?" He turns the dark glasses onto me. "You found her?"

"I did find her, Jason." I can't even stand looking at him, so I keep my eyes on my mug. I watch the steam wafting around. "I'm not actually sure what happened to her, as yet. They say it'll take around roughly forty-eight hours until the autopsy report comes back. But they're leaning towards it possibly being cardiac arrest. Maybe her time was just up?"

"Gran wasn't that old," he points out, a bit miffed and angry.

"I know she wasn't," I agree hastily. "But apparently other things can be a factor, and not just age, Jason."

A tense silence fell over us then. I guess we both were trying to come to terms with it. I certainly didn't believe it was cardiac arrest myself, for that matter. Gran seemed healthy as a horse. I guess you never know, though.

"So, you saw her?" he asks me nervously. "How'd she look like? Tell me."

He obviously really wanted me to go into graphic detail of how I found Gran, which was very hard for me to express. Honestly, I just wanted to shut it all off, the image of her, and never have to think of it ever again. "Well, I came home from work and saw her sitting out on the porch in the chair." It's a lie, yes. I never actually came home straight from work; I was at Fangtasia. But Jason didn't have to know that. I don't feel it is vital to the story of how I found our Grandmother. "At first, I thought she simply had fallen asleep, because her body was at a funny angle and her eyes were closed. So, I didn't want to wake her, so I sat beside her for a bit. Then I noticed she wasn't giving off any breathing noises, and when I tried to wake her... she just wouldn't wake up. So, I guess then I realized she had passed on to Heaven and left us." I feel very uncomfortable and sick to my stomach in having to bring it up, but Jason has a right to know, doesn't he?

"How'd she seem the day before in the morning? Did she seem any... different?" It's funny, because my brother was asking me the same questions Andy had.

"Not at all, Jason. She seemed her usual self. After she made me some coffee, she went outside and continued her gardening. She didn't seem unhappy, or anything like that."

Jason gives me a fond smile at the thought of that, but it fades very quickly.

"What if something else happened to her?" I'm surprised by Jason asking me that. Here I was, thinking Jason and I were from two completely different worlds. I couldn't understand Jason sometimes; He seems too flirty, too irritating, too immature, too... promiscuous. And yet, somehow, our minds were thinking the same thing. We both had suspicious minds, then. "It just seems funny, don't it? What if someone killed her?"

"That's the problem, though. I didn't see any blood or wounds on her, Jason. And she did have a peaceful look on her face, so it wasn't as if she was feeling any pain when she passed."

He was rummaging through ideas in his head, which got me spooked out, after a while. He was thinking up different scenarios; One existing of Gran getting a knock on the front door from some unknown stranger. That stranger lures her outside, and kills her by strangling her. It's a pretty vivid and horrifying image from Jason's mind, playing like a clear video tape back at me, and I fight against scolding him for thinking such a terrible thing. Though I don't quite believe it possible she merely suffered a cardiac arrest, I felt more content in pretending otherwise and not dwelling too much.

After an even longer thoughtful silence shared between us, Jason stands. "I'll be off now, Sis. Keep me posted on Gran." I can't even contain my shock properly over him leaving his sister alone so quickly. He hasn't even had a single sip of the coffee I made him. Something just doesn't sit right with me, as far as my brother was concerned. He's almost acting like a stranger. "Call me when you hear anything."

I snort. "Yeah, yeah. I could if you bothered to answer your phone when I tried." I get off the couch and take off his sun glasses, in annoyance. It's starting to piss me off. "What's with wearing the sun glasses in the house? You think you're too cool for me, or something, Jason?"

Instantly, I regret taking them off. I stare up at his eyes, horrified. Something definitely isn't right with poor Jason. Not only did he have puffy bags underneath his eyes, but his pupils were heavily dilated and his eyes were red and watery around the rims. This isn't good at all.

"Jason, are you high?" I ask, surprised. I know the signs of a drugged-out person, and he was acting extremely sketchy around me this morning, and I knew it had nothing at all to do with Ruben wrestling him outside. "Are you trying to keep that from me? Is that why you're wearing your ridiculous sun glasses in the house?"

"No, I'm not high." He sounds far too defensive and guilty. "Look, I gotta go, Sis. Fill me in. Love you." At that, he yanks his sun glasses out of my hands, slips them back on over his eyes, and he darts off out the front door.

What type of woman was this girl he was dating, is all I can wonder. Hopefully not a druggie that is pushing him into all types of dangerous drugs. While I know my brother had his problems, I didn't think he would purposefully go out of his way to be drawn to those problems. I feel unreasonably angry with him, as I watch him leave out the front door. How _dare_ he make me worry for him at a time like this? Selfish bastard. What's going on with him?

After all the excitement of the morning, I feel drained and exhausted. I want to sentence myself to some good few hours of sleep, so that is exactly what I do.

I tuck my knees into my chest and close my eyes as I lay stretched out on the couch. When I wake again, an odd, young man is standing over me, with a warm smile playing along the edges of his lips. It isn't Ruben. It isn't my brother. It isn't anyone I know or have seen before. He reminds me of an angel. His clothes are stark-white, and clean, accentuating his dark, cropped hair and pale skin. He has a faint glow to him- he's a vampire, I can just tell. His eyes are a murky, peaceful bright grey. His long white shirt is also unbuttoned and hanging loosely off his shoulders, showing off odd and ancient tattoos around his collarbone area. _Er, what the hell?_

"Uh, can I help you?" I ask, shocked by the sight of him. He chuckles gently down at me, as though he finds my confusion so endearing. "Seriously, _who_ are you? And why is your shirt undone? Why are you in my home? How did you get in here?"

A funny emotion flits across his face; Something that has nothing at all to do with my questions.

"Ah, he has arrived," he says quietly. "Precisely on time." I peer up at him quizzically. _Who has arrived? And why?_

I get my answer next, when Eric pops in mysteriously out of nowhere. He is leaning against the door jamb, watching in on us, his arms crossed over his chest. In hilarious contrast to this stranger standing before me, he is wearing all black. Black jeans, black boots. Black linen shirt. Much like this other vamp, his shirt is unbuttoned. My eyes travel greedily down his chest. _What is going on here?_

A huge smile crosses over his face, showing fang, and the sight travels straight to my groin.

"Ah." The vampire before me exhales heavily, and his eyes close briefly. "Yes, can you feel that? Feel what courses through her. The delight at your union. The arousal." His eyes slowly flicker open, and they glimmer down at me fondly. "The... love." A moment later, Eric is standing by him. They both observe me, watching me.

_This is crazy._

"A drink is in order first, I think," the young man goes on, his tone soft and mesmerizing. His fangs run out without warning, and it takes everything within me not to gasp. I realize that by what he is saying, he means a drink is in order- from me. He wants a taste of my blood.

My eyes dart to Eric nervously.

"Head back," he breathes. Because it's him, and because I trust him, I oblige without a single word. I push my head back, jutting out my chin. "A bit further, Perky," he urges gently.

The other vampire clothed in white chuckles again. It's a strangely approving sound. "So eager. I like this."

They both fall to their knees before me. I gulp audibly, feeling my heart hammering away.

I close my eyes, trying to remember how to breathe.

A moment later, I hear Eric curse loudly and make a disturbing noise. I pop open an eye to find he has a hand gripping the other vampire's shoulder tightly, holding him back. The other vampire smiles.

"Elder's always go first, my son," he breathes, in a scolding tone. "Do not be so hasty to forget."

Swallowing loudly, Eric reluctantly lets his hand fall from the young vampire's shoulder-blade, and turns his eyes back onto me. He inhales sharply, and keeps his eyes on mine, as the other vampire slowly leans forward. I feel his breath on the side of my neck, and I'm nervous by his close proximity. I swallow involuntarily, as I feel his lips circle over my neck. I keep my eyes on Eric, and the curt nod he sends my way has an ever-so-slightly calming effect on me.

"Ahhh," I moan, as the vampire's fangs penetrate my skin. I feel blood trailing down the column of my throat, as he sucks loudly.

My eyes are locked on Eric's, and I see a shift in his face. His face darkens, and his eyes burn with hunger and impatience. And then he moves forward over me on his knees, taking the back of my head in his hand, and kisses me. It is the oddest sensation imaginable to be sucked at by a vampire, and then have another kissing you. I try to respond to his kiss in earnest, but I can't really move my head with the way the other vampire is sucking at me the way he is.

"That's enough, Godric," he snaps suddenly, and the other vampire leans back on his knees.

_Godric? This is Godric!_

My blood is coating his lips, and he keeps his dark grey eyes on mine as he licks around them slowly with his tongue. He makes a gentle hum of approval at the taste of my blood. Eric turns his face into the other unbitten side of my throat.

"Now, it is my turn with my human." His voice hums low into my throat and thrills my body. He starts by trailing soft, desperate kisses around the lining of my throat. And then he bites down.

I jerk upright, fighting back a whimper.

My eyes meet the other vampire, who watches on between the pair of us with appraising eyes. Eric's bite and sucking is less painful, more careful, than the other vampire's. He moves away after a moment, and wipes a smear of blood off the corner of his lip with a long forefinger. And then he is leaning closely to my face once more. "See how fucking wonderful your blood tastes," he breathes roughly, and then he eases the same finger he used to wipe his mouth into mine.

"Mmmm," I murmur. Clasping tightly onto his hand, I draw his finger deeper in. I twirl my tongue around the tip, and make a few noises of delight. He stops breathing, and makes a few deep noises of his own from the very back of his throat.

And then the other vampire is gripping me by the shoulders and pulling me away from Eric unfairly. He turns me around to face him directly, and along with the movement, Eric's finger glides out of my mouth. He grabs me by the nape of the neck, drawing me in, until we are kissing. I can't say it is as pleasant as me and Eric kissing. Usually I consider myself to be a faithful person, and I feel a bit of guilt, as the other vampire pushes his tongue into my mouth, swirling it around. And then I feel Eric sitting up on the couch, leaning into the side of my body, as the other vamp kisses me ruthlessly. Eric's hand runs from the side of my neck, down to my chest. He makes a low, primal growling noise as his cool fingers plunge underneath the low neckline of what I'm wearing, and his fingers circle the start of my left breast, molding over the supple skin.

This is pretty erotic, sexual stuff for a Christian girl. I can hardly believe I'm going along willingly with two vamps here. Never once did I consider myself the type for a threesome. Both vamp's are obviously battling for my attention. Eric grasps me by the shoulders, disengaging my mouth from the other vampire's, and then replaces his mouth with his own. I kiss Eric back easily, and vigorously. And then I feel the other vampire pushing up my dress to get at my legs. Since when was I wearing a dress, for Christ's sake?

It is becoming too much. I need to know to ease my mind.

"Please," I beg uneasily, into Eric's mouth. "Can somebody please tell me what is going on here?"

"Relax," the other vampire soothes, gliding his mouth all over my legs. I shiver as he starts kissing towards my thigh bone, near rather intimate places. "You have had his blood," he croons, and then his hands start pulling down my underwear mercilessly to my knees. Goodness gracious me. "I am with you both. We are the same."

"Huh?" I breathe, muddled by all the sensations being put onto me all at once. This is crazy!

"I am with you both, always," the vampire goes on, starting with his mouth again. He cups my nub with his cold palm, and I groan into Eric's mouth nervously. "You had his blood, therefore I am with you."

"Sookie," Eric breathes into my mouth, his voice hoarse and raw. "Relax. We are one." He runs his nose down mine.

"Please," I whimper. "I feel like I'm going insane!"

"You... are... _ours_," the other vampire says softly, rubbing me with his fingers. My back arches into Eric, and I'm sweating all over.

"Please, stop this. What the hell is this? Please!"

And then I'm back in Granny's living room. I'm on the couch, and my hand is stroking myself_ right down there_... I gasp, stunned and ashamed, as I quickly remove my hands out of my jeans. Oh, my Lord. What just happened to me? I try to calm my breathing, as I look around the living room nervously. I'm very pleased to know I'm alone while this happened.

**Hoping this wasn't a disappointing update considering how long it has been? I'm so sorry if it is! Thanks to you all for being so amazing and lovely! It really is encouraging! How are you all liking the new season of TB? I'm missing the little Godric flashbacks, truth be told. :-) **

**Hope you're all well and keeping safe and happy x Much love xx**


	25. Crazy Sookie

**Thank you all so much for being sweet, I really love hearing from your all, and reading your reviews. It makes my day. I am so pleased people seem to like this crazy little story. I never thought anyone would! Hoping you enjoy this chapter :)**

**I'm very upset, as my dog from childhood that has been around me for over fifteen years just died. She was the most gentle, sweetest dog, and it's so heartbreaking. I know it is just a very sad fact of life, but it's hard to look at it in different perspectives. She had cancer unfortunately, but putting her down was the only solution to ease her pain. :'( Very emotional time for me, but luckily I have this story to take my mind off it! It's doing wonders in stopping me from dwelling too much over the loss of her.**

**Hope you're all well and happy (and hug and cherish your pets for me). Much love xx**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"Oh my God," I mutter to myself, my voice heavy with despair.

Exhausted and terribly confused, I sit up on the sofa, bringing my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms over my knees. I feel like I want to start crying all over again.

I've always prided myself on being a faithful person. I always assumed that had I ever gotten into a relationship with someone, I would never be the one cheating. I would be devoted, till the end. Didn't I just cheat on Eric, though?

Yes? No.

No. It's just a dream, although it felt absolutely realistic to me. If it had only been a dream, though, then why'd it feel as real and as though it was truly happening to me? As if I was truly there, letting both vampire's have their wicked ways with me? Lifting a hand, I feel around my neck with the tips of my fingers. I'm very relieved to know I haven't any bites on me, or any blood whatsoever.

Just when I thought life couldn't get anymore complicated and hard, this had to happen. Something that came around unexpectedly and pinched me in my butt, giving me a crude wake-up call.

_"That's enough, Godric..."_

Though I felt sinfully dirty and as if I've just bathed in sticky mud, I can't deny I feel somewhat happy I've finally met and seen the man who created Eric a thousand years ago; the vampire who constantly torments him in invisible form whenever it strikes his fancy to do so. I would have liked to meet him in different circumstances, however; One that didn't paint me as this wanton girl just ready to screw two vamp's at the same time. How rude was it to get it on with your vampire-man's Daddy when he was right there beside you, seeing it all for himself?

At least I feel ill and disgusted with myself. I feel like I've betrayed Eric in some sense. That means I'm not completely a bad person, right?

Besides, Eric was totally egging me on to get down and dirty with his father. He seemed just fine with it, if a little impatient to get some loving from me himself. I trust Eric, more than probably I've ever trusted anyone. He seemed real fine by it, so was it really my fault that I just went with the flow?

God, I sound exactly like someone trying to justify their actions by placing blame on another person:

_"He seduced me by touching me, so I thought why not rape him? He was egging me on by touching me and being flirtatious!"_

_"Oh, he was saying filthy things to me, things that insulted me, so it's his fault I lost my cool and stabbed him. He shouldn't have said cruel things to me in the first place..."_

Don't I sound just like that? A person trying to justify their actions just to make themselves feel better about it? To me, I did. Now how was I meant to be normal around Eric, when I saw him again? How can you not feel guilty with yourself? I knew that just by only looking at his face, I would be replaying the whole thing inside my head all over again. I would be beside myself with worry and stress, exactly as I am right now.

I'm freaking out. And when I'm freaking out, I don't know what I'm capable of.

In the only way I know how to clear my head, I head on up into my room and pull on my work uniform. I need to keep myself busy and productive. Working was the very last thing I felt like doing, truth be told. But I needed all the distractions I could possibly get. As I fasten my hair up into a bun, I look at my reflection. I look terrible. I feel terrible. At least the outside reflects how I feel within. I can't even bother with make-up, I'm past all vanity. I decide to just head into work utterly make-up free, with puffy eyes and a swollen, twanging jaw from Ruben's hit.

Hey, my beloved Grandmother just died. To top it all off, I was unfaithful to my vampire-man. Excuse me, but I think that gives me pardon to not put my best foot forward for the day. At least my hair is neat, and I look fairly respectable to be out and about in public. That's good enough for me.

When I head into work, I start rethinking on my decision to come in for the day. Obviously I hadn't thought it through well enough.

Though it's somewhat easier to keep my mental guard up, all thanks to Eric's blood, I still get the occasional slip-in. The town must already know about my poor Granny's passing away, and they seem to handle me as though I'm a fragile piece of glass about ready to burst and shatter.

No one tries anything on me, thank heavens. Not a single man pats me on the behind and tries their luck on me. All the female customers seem to give me pitiful looks though, as though they're sad for me. They can keep their pity, really.

Despite us never getting along all too well, Arlene Fowler was much more sympathetic and helpful to me this afternoon, I notice. When the three o'clock lull starts, she comes over to me and takes me gently by the shoulders, eyeing me all over with sadness in her eyes.

"Girl," she says gently, "You sure you want to be here right now?"

"I am, Arlene. It helps to keep busy in a time like this," I assure her, as well as myself. "I need to keep myself busy."

"Then don't you go overworking yourself, all right? You've got to keep your strengths up, sweetie." She pats me on the shoulder awkwardly. Since we've never been all that close, it seems she feels just as uneasy as I do over her unexpected display of affection. "You just let me know if it gets too much for you, all right? You poor thing."

Suddenly, I feel like an ill child, being coddled and babied. I know she means well, but come on!

"I'm good," I assure her again.

"Well, you just take some time-out whenever you need it, all right?"

"I will. Thanks Arlene."

"No worries, sweetie."

She gives me a weird one-armed hug, then steps back uncertainly as though she's unsure of how I'll react to that. I just nod at her and force on a hard smile. Just as she's about to move off around the bar, I call her back nervously.

"Hey Arlene?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

Arlene has been married over four times. Surely, she'd know all about cheating, right?

"Can I ask you something?"

She looks none the more happier to give me advice. She grins at me. "Sure. What's up?"

"What do you consider cheating?"

"Uh, cheating?" she repeats blankly.

"Yeah, you know, cheating. Like when you're kind of in a relationship with somebody, and you go off with another guy. What's cheating in your eyes?"

"It all depends on the person. We all got our different views on the topic. You have a man in your life, Sookie? I never knew you did."

Guess I've kept it very quiet then. "I kind of do have a man, Arlene. And I kind of... kissed another guy. Is that cheating?"

"Oh," she whispers in shock. I can tell she's very disbelieving. I mustn't seem the type to cheat. "As I said, honey, it all depends on what your fella considers is cheating. Like with Terry, if he made-out with another woman I'd feel somewhat pissed at him. But it all depends on how he kissed her. If it was only a friendly, quick peck on the lips then that's not cheating to me. But if he full-on shoved his tongue down her throat and they go at it like two cowboys in a tent, well... that'd be cheating in my books for sure."

I never knew it could be that complicated.

"Who's the fella you're seeing?" she asks, with interest.

Uh-oh. "Um, he's not from around these parts of town. You probably wouldn't know him," I tell her, with an anxious laugh.

She clearly isn't giving up anytime soon. "No, really. Who is he? What's his name?"

"Uh, his name is Eric," I confess weakly, naively hoping she'll just drop it already. But she doesn't.

"Eric, who? Honey, there's a lot of Eric's in this town."

"His name is just Eric," I tell her firmly, hoping she'll catch onto my tone that I don't want to discuss it any further.

"No, really." She laughs nervously. "What's his last name?"

Oh, crap. I really do not need this today. I notice Lafayette, who's on his break from in the kitchen, mysteriously stop taking a sip of the Diet Coke he is sucking through a straw to listen in as he sits there at the counter. I've really set myself up for trouble.

"Eric Northman," I just decide to tell her apprehensively. I can't see no other way to get out of it.

"Bitch, please," Lafayette says very softly.

"Uh, Eric Northman?" She laughs again nervously. And then there comes a shift in her expression, one that tells me she has finally put a face to the name. She looks utterly flabbergasted and horrified. She touches her neck, and gasps loudly. "Oh no, Sookie," she whispers disapprovingly. "You don't mean that nasty vampire that does them talk-shows on television, do you? Please no."

I look her dead-on in the eyes challengingly. "What's so nasty about him, Arlene?"

"Oh, honey... it's just he..." she trails off, horrified. "Couldn't you just, I don't know? Date a regular human? He just seems too... horrible." She shivers visibly. "On one interview I watched, he just seemed all about the blood. It was real scary. One member of the audience took their little girl up to him, and he sat her in his lap. You want to know what he did to that poor little girl?" If only I could turn my hearing off like a visual aid. "He brought out those ugly fangs of his, and she got real scared. She shrieked and cried something shocking, and then he laughed and hugged her. He just don't seem the type a good girl like you should be seeing, Sookie."

I'm unsurprised by her tale. I already knew Eric loved scaring children. What's new? I had faith he wouldn't purposefully hurt them. He could be a meanie on the outside, but inside, he was just a real softie at heart. I think that's one of the reasons why I liked him so much. He cares about people deeply.

"Well, I'll be the judge of that," I mutter stiffly. "You leave them judgments to me to make up and decide for myself, Arlene."

"She is in deep, that girl is," Lafayette says gleefully, feeling the need to put his two cents worth in.

"Oh, go perve on Hugh Jackman, Lafayette," I shoot back.

He laughs to himself, and gets to his feet. "Oh, honey-buns. I'm gonna do far more than just perving to that man." He pretends to bring his willy out. Arlene shrieks in response. "The hand is going right down here, and we're gonna move it, like this." He imitates stroking himself.

I scoff in disgust, while Arlene cracks up laughing, albeit weakly.

"You know Jackman isn't gay, right?" she points out. "He's been married for nearly over fourteen years. You ain't never getting a slice of him, Lafayette."

"Honey-chops, everybody goes gay for Uncle Laffy. Even your man, Terry, I see the way he looks at me. You better keep a close leash on that one."

Despite myself, I burst out laughing. It sounds weird, even to me. I feel like I haven't laughed in days. And thanks to Lafayette, him and Arlene go on and on with some silly heated debate, over Terry's straightness. Obviously she has forgotten all about my admission into dating Eric. Thank heavens for that. I don't need anyone telling me how to live my life. It is really no one else's business but my own.

Work has never seemed so slow and painful. I'm just relieved I'm not a teary-eyed mess. Thanks to Arlene asking me questions I felt she had no business knowing into my dating life, it has gotten me angry.

When I look at her as she takes her fifteen minute break, I feel a bit terrible that I'm looking at her with an entirely new set of critical eyes. I think she's mean, and prejudiced against vampire's. She doesn't know Eric like I do, so what gives her right to put her wrong opinion in?

I try to distract myself from giving her the stink-eye. Usually, I'm not so much of a mean-spirited bitch. I grab a dishcloth and start scrubbing a table someone made a mess of with ketchup. When my eyes flit over to her again, a man is standing behind her chair. She clearly doesn't know that, because she's too preoccupied with chatting away on her cell to one of her children. And then as if he feels my eyes on him, the man turns to look into my direction and gives me a grin. My hands stop working with their scrubbing and my heart leaps in my throat.

_It's Godric again. What the fudge?_

Startling me, he scruffs Arlene by the strands of her fiery-red hair, and then he goes so far as to wack her head down against the flat of the table. It makes a horribly loud noise as her head connects with it, and then she slumps down in the chair, unconscious. I look around the room, panicking. No one else seems to notice what he's done to her. Everybody else is just going about their business as usual.

"Oh, Arlene!" I hear myself screaming in fright. "Don't do that to her, please!"

And then, _wham._ Everybody seems to look at me. Before my own eyes, Arlene has mysteriously came back to conscious again, and she peers past her shoulder at me, alarmed. She stares at me searchingly, wondering what my deal is, and I notice Godric is gone.

I feel like a freak. No, I feel like Crazy Sookie Stackhouse. The young woman everybody seems to think I am.

Without thinking, I dart over to her and launch myself at her, throwing my arms around her tightly. When I pull away from her, she stares up at me then goes ashen in the face.

"Sookie, are you alright? What's going on with you?" Good question.

"Sorry about before," I apologize, even though I know I'm apologizing for so much more. "Sorry about being a bitch."

I feel like crying. I feel like I'm going crazy.

"Excuse me," I say hurriedly, and then I run off into the staff area, away from everybody. I lean against the door and press a hand against my thumping heart. Then I put my head between my knees and try to focus on breathing.

This is some serious shit.

Maybe coming into work was a stupid idea after all.

**Sorry if this chappy was uneventful. In next one, there will contain a box of tampons, a robbery, a gun-fight, and Sookie and Eric time. Love you amazing people! x**


	26. The Things You Do For Love

**Hope you enjoy this one LOL. I had a fun time writing it- for obvious reasons. xxx**

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Six**_

When I get home, I rush inside, with wanting to be all by my lonesome to get over the shock of my day. I really need to tell Eric about it, and it's already dark out. As I scamper off towards the kitchen, I get what I'm wanting. Eric's already here. And he's poking through my refrigerator. I haven't the slightest clue what he's doing, but I can hear him mumbling to himself quietly in distaste.

"Jesus, that fucking reeks," I hear him say. "Why does it smell so bad?"

"Hey Eric," I say warily. "You've just gone ahead and let yourself into my home, I see."

I'm about to start initiating our very needed conversation about seeing Godric at work today, when he pulls his head out of the refrigerator and turns around to look at me while holding a long cucumber up to his nose. It's a little distracting.

I don't know whether to laugh or whether to feel concerned. "Uh, what are you doing to that poor cucumber? Or do I not even want to know?"

"Smell it," he says, stepping over to me. He holds the cucumber up to my nose. I give him a weird look, while taking in a small sniff. Is this a weird vampire thing? "Does it smell right to you?"

"Why're you smelling it in the first place?"

"I don't know. But look at this." He returns to the refrigerator and brings out a carrot, showing it to me. "Is that normal? Why's it gone all black? Do you eat it like that?"

"Oh no," I gasp, horrified. "It's mouldy, that's why! All the food has probably gone off."

"Yeah, I figured. There's a piece of meat in there too. It has all this gunk around it."

"No, this can't be happening to me!" I push him out-of-the-way desperately, looking inside. I sigh sadly, shaking my head. He's right. Most of whatever food Gran had left in there before she died has gone bad. I take one look at a few slices of bacon she had in there to put in sandwiches and almost gag. "Yuck," I groan, covering a hand over my mouth. "Sad thing is, I haven't touched anything Gran kept in there. I just can't bring myself to move it from where she left it. Is that weird of me?"

"I don't know." He shrugs thoughtfully. "I still have a shirt that Godric bled on locked away in my desk."

Keeping a shirt with blood on it for over a hundred years seems more grosser than a refrigerator full of rotting vegetables to me, but I keep that little thought to myself.

"Can you eat anything in there?"

"Nope. And even if I could, I definitely don't want to. Come food shopping with me?" I suggest hopefully. I have to stifle a laugh at how silly and ordinary that request is, but it's obvious Eric doesn't mind.

He takes one last whiff of the carrot he's holding, before he hurls it into the bin.

* * *

"Have you ever been in a grocery store before?" I ask him, as we stroll down the aisles.

He looks so out-of-place holding a red grocery basket filled with vegetables. It's hilarious but rather endearing at the same time. His reaction to everything is so funny; When we crossed into the refrigerated meat aisle, he had a difficult time leaving, so I had to scruff him roughly by the shirt and tow him away before he did any damage. When one of the packages of veal had a little leakage of cow's blood, he dabbed a finger in it and brought it up to his lips to taste it curiously. Apparently animal blood isn't all that appealing to vamps, because he looked as if he wanted to throw up at the taste.

People keep throwing him dirty looks but he ignores them and follows me around dutifully like a loyal dog, bless him.

"I don't think I have, Perky."

We turn into the personal care aisle and I almost want to tell him to go away for a few minutes while I get some tampons. I'm a woman, and it can't be helped, I know that. But it's rather embarrassing. I find the right ones I always use, and quickly toss them into the basket, feeling red as a lobster. Much to my dismay, he picks up the package, reads the details on the back of how to use them, and then chuckles indulgently to himself. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him to come after all?

"What?" I ask defensively.

"It's not you," he says quietly. "It's just that Pamela and I use these sometimes."

I'm thunderstruck. He uses tampons? What? How? "Uh, how can you use tampons when you're, you know... a... a man?"

A shopper standing near us, an elderly woman, I think she overhears our conversation. She gives Eric a rather disgusted look, but he's too busy explaining in thorough detail and tearing open the plastic packaging with his teeth to notice.

"Eric, don't," I hiss, but it's already far too late. He pulls out a tampon and imitates sticking it in his left nostril. Oh, my Lord. Somebody come bury me from this embarrassing vampire.

"See?" he says, far too loudly and carelessly. "These are excellent for soaking up the bleeds." As if to demonstrate further, he pretends to slide it in his ear-hole.

I almost want to kill him. Never have I ever felt this embarrassed before in a grocery store!

"Eric, stop it!"

Embarrassed, I snatch the tampon out his hand and fling it on the shelf. Huffing, I walk in front of him, purposefully keeping my distance. Right now I don't want anyone to even link us together. Why does he insist on embarrassing me in a store full of other people? Jesus Shepard of Judea. I turn to send him a sour look over my shoulder. He looks as if he is trying not to laugh. Bastard. Then he smiles at me, with those beautiful human teeth, a beautiful innocent crooked smile, all innocence, and I feel awful with myself all over again. I grit my teeth together and swallow dryly, forcing back tears.

In my head I start to hear the voice of Father Simon, a pastor at Church, who I would go into the confessional booth and talk to sometimes when I was younger. He softly asks me in my head if there is anything else I would like to confess and my head explodes, _yes, yes, yes! _That realistic dream with his vampire Maker crosses through my head_. _I see myself kissing them all over again. I feel Godric pulling up the dress I was magically wearing, and touching me, stroking me.

_I don't know what happened, so you've got to not get grumpy with me,_ I tell Eric silently in my head. _Besides, you were there! You were all for it, so don't you dare get shitty with me, buster!_

_Tell him,_ Father Simon says to me in my head sternly, or maybe it's my Granny's voice I'm picturing, _he has been nothing but loyal to you, and faithful. He deserves you telling him the truth_. _But I can't,_ I protest in my head sadly, _I just can't. He'll go grumpy on me, and it'll ruin things between us forever. Things are going pretty good now. Why ruin it?_

I guess hearing made-up voices inside my head is a real good sign of my insanity. I feel like I'm going mad with guilt.

"Eric, I've got to tell you something," I begin weakly.

"What?"

"I did something terrible, and I'm scared you mightn't be able to ever forgive me."

Maybe he catches onto how worried my voice is, because his expression turns strained and his eyes glimmer back at me with anxiety. And like an unbelievably understanding and patient man, which makes my guilt only sky-rocket to the moon, he stands there waiting calmly while holding onto my basket of groceries, like an innocent sweet vampire. Oh, God. I can't. I just can't.

"Oh, never mind," I mutter, turning away. He doesn't have to know, does he? Well, yes. He kind of does. It sure would ease my state of mind, if he did.

"What?" He starts walking down the aisle slowly beside me. I can feel him studying my face, I can feel him worrying. "What is it, Perky?" His voice is low with shaky nerves. "Did you kill someone, Perky? Is that it? Because that's fine. I'm not completely innocent, either. I've killed many people during my long life-time. We just need a shovel to dig up some dirt, and then we'll bury that shit up. Problem solved." The way he says that so calmly, it tells me that Eric has done his fair share of burying bodies over the years. It's rather unsettling.

"Don't be ridiculous," I say nervously under my breath. "I didn't kill anyone, Eric! Why would you even start thinking that? Goodness gracious me!"

_Thank God I never killed anyone. That seems far worse than cheating._

"Well, you look as if you've just only killed someone..." he says quietly. Do I really look that bad? I must do.

"Well, don't worry. I didn't."

_Tell him, pet,_ my Granny says in her a stern voice in my head._ Now's the right time. Do the right thing, Sookie Michelle Stackhouse._

I take in a deep, steadying breath for courage. Here it goes. It's now or never. "I'm starting to see Godric."

He stiffens, and his face freezes, in disbelief. Very slowly, he looks ever more paler than what is normal for him, if that's even possible. "You're starting to have visions of my father?" he breathes out quietly in a low, astonished voice.

"Yep. I think drinking your blood had something to do with that, too. Has that ever happened before? Did you know it could?"

His fair brows furrow as he looks at me with intense concentration. I fight back the urge with squirm with uneasiness. "I've never had a human drink my blood before, Perky, so I wouldn't know. I didn't know that was possible."

That relieves me in some twisted, strange way. I am the only one who has drunk his blood.

"Well, it must be. And he seems pretty vicious, if what happened today was anything to go by. He seems like a real trooper."

"Vicious?" He appears as though he's trying not to smile over that.

"Well, I had this lady who works with me, Arlene. We were just talking and she was sort of asking if I was seeing you. We talked for a bit, I told her I kind of was, and then I saw him stand over her a bit later afterwards. Turns out he's very touchy with people saying mean things about his son. He actually grabbed her by the hair and whacked her into the table, real horribly. But when I screamed at him not to, suddenly everything cleared and Arlene was right as rain again. Apparently I must've only been seeing it in my mind, and it wasn't real life, thank Jesus. Is that what your visions of him are all about? I mean, do you see him do terrible things to people that aren't real?"

"Not quite, Perky. We just argue, and he gets on my fucking nerves. He likes to lecture me as if I am a child."

I take in another deep breath, attempting to smile at him apologetically. He's taking it all rather nicely.

But it all comes down to this one little, scandalous titbit of information. "I also might have had a dream of you both this morning," I tell him in a breathless, wobbly whisper. "It was rather sexual. There might have been some bites from you both, here and there. There was also a hefty amount of kissing involved. It might have... turned me on." What a bizarre conversation to have in a grocery store, of all places! I look around us, suddenly embarrassed. Luckily, there isn't anyone around in this aisle to eavesdrop on us tonight.

I watch his face nervously, judging his reaction, as he swallows that confession down. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath through his mouth. I can see his fangs. Either he's mad about it, or it's turned him on too. Could it be both? Maybe he isn't so offended I got it on with the two of them after all?

"Come to think of it," he says, a bit hoarsely and dreamily, "When I woke in my coffin tonight, I did feel particularly... hard in places. I was wondering why. I accused Pamela of molesting me in my sleep, which she outright loudly denied. She got shitty with me, and threw her heels at my head." He touches his forehead absently with his fingers, as though he can feel her hurling them at him all over again. He takes in another deep breath, and looks down at me, appearing like he is trying very, very hard not to laugh. "I didn't know that with the exchange of blood it would happen to you as well. Sorry about that."

I certainly wasn't expecting him to apologize. More like yell at me, maybe.

"I wasn't expecting this," I croak out, letting loose an anxious giggle. "I was expecting you to get real mad and maybe yell at me. Maybe even throw things around. I didn't expect you to be so... accepting. It's wildly... reassuring of you."

"Well, Sookie, I lo..." He starts to say, but then he cuts himself off with a primitive grunt and curt shake to his head. He turns his eyes down to my basket. "Well, do you need anything else? Anymore human shit, or is that all?" I'm still hanging on for what he was about to say, but it's obvious he doesn't want to say it. So I let it slip.

I'm still so shocked by how well he is taking it. Turns out, I've been stressing over nothing. "Nope, that's pretty much everything I need."

"Good." He nods, and starts marching to the counter. I follow behind him hurriedly.

It still feels funny doing something so mundane and normal as grocery shopping with him. He definitely looks as if he doesn't belong here. No, he looks like he belongs... right where he's supposed to be. Sitting up there in his chair centre stage in Fangtasia, looking all dark and vampy. Not with some human helping her out with carrying her basket.

I start wondering indulgently what it would be like having him as my actual boyfriend. Would we do regular crap like this? Go to the movies, go grocery shopping together. Do normal, natural human things?

I also start wondering what we were. What was happening between us? Was it something serious, or was it just a fun, casual flingy thing? Were there feelings involved for him at all, regarding me?

There's a three-people queue at the counter, so we stand by, waiting around patiently. This feels normal and weird, but in a good way. A pleasantly average way. He's just my good, old partner helping me out with carrying my basket. Nothing else to it. I peer down at my basket, at all the vegetables and the slitted bag of opened tampons. Heck, he doesn't even care that I had to buy tampons in front of him! He admitted to using them himself with Pam, whenever they got the bleeds!

At least I know I don't have to feel embarrassed by things around him... He's seen and done it all. Nothing seems to phase him. That's probably because he's so old. Looking at him, you'd never consider he was over a thousand-years-old. He's aged like a fine wine, with not a single grey hair in sight. It's crazy.

Just as we scoot closer to the counter, there is a flurry of activity. Two men burst through the front door. You can't see their faces, because they're wearing funny stockings over their faces, with little holes in the mouths. Not only that, but they're holding shotguns and look menacing.

My stomach drops. Oh, shit. Tell me this isn't happening, right here and now. I know what this means!

"Everybody freeze," one of them screeches. Oh, yes. It is happening. My fears are confirmed.

I inch into Eric's side a fraction. I've never been happier in my life to know a big, fearless vampire.

The poor two people standing in front of us waiting to get served cry out in shock and fear, while the man behind the counter who runs the store looks apprehensive and scared for his life. One of the masked men tread over the counter and scruff the poor man by the shirt, and his internal thoughts go wild. He's thinking he can't be shot. He can't die. Not today. Not now. His wife at home is seven months pregnant, and she relies on his wage. He wants to see his baby boy being born. He wants to live.

"Open the register," the man holding him barks rudely. So, with clammy hands and fingers, the poor fellow does. He pings it open, and the robber whistles to himself in delight. "Woo," he cries to the other fellow. "We got ourselves a shit-load of cash right here! We gon' have ourselves a field day here, boy!"

The other robber suddenly jumps into the line, directing his rifle at all of us clustered together, so we won't think of moving or being brave. My scalp prickles in fear.

"Gah," I yip, jumping backwards away from the rifle.

Blindly, I find one of Eric's hands and clasp it in my own, for dear life. It's really lucky I can't break his fingers off, considering how tightly I'm clinging to them. I peer up at Eric nervously, as the two men scream and yell at the man behind the counter to get on his knees, telling him not to think of being a hero, then one of them starts taking all the dough. He hardly looks frightened in the slightest; I feel like a startled, little mouse compared to him, while he looks admirably cool and composed. But I know better; I definitely know him well enough now. His eyes burn menacingly as he watches the masked man who is holding the rifle in our direction, and his jaw twitches. Uh-oh. Here comes Mr. Grumpy Vampire. He doesn't like that. He doesn't like being held at gun-point at all. Hell, I've joined the club.

"You," he says in a soft tone to one of the men. "You just cut right in front of us, meat-sack. Where are your manners?"

"Eric, please don't," I beg him shakily. "Just let them do their thing. I don't exactly want to get shot!"

He ignores me, and takes a step closer to one of the robbers. He loosens his grip on my shopping basket, until it falls to the floor gently. And then, only heaven knows why he's got the ripped-open packet of my tampons between his hands, holding it out in front of his chest like a gift. The masked robber closest to us sees what he is holding, too, and he laughs unpleasantly.

"What are you gonna do, huh?" he goads. "Throw tampons at me, motherfucker? Huh?"

"Now that's a good idea." Eric laughs quietly to himself as well, but there's a bitter, hard edge to it.

The man laughs again along with Eric, then takes it one dangerous step further. He raises the rifle and points it directly at Eric's head. I squeal a bit in fear, because I have no idea what a bullet to the head would do to him. Will it kill him? Better not, because I sure can't lose him as well as my Grandmother. No goddamn way.

"Well, I got news for you," the man breathes in warning through the little slit of his mask. His teeth look disconcertingly yellow. "I'm the one with the shotgun here, fuck-face. You think a tampons gonna do anything to me? No, it ain't! I can blow your head right off just at the click of this lil' trigger right here!"

I blanch at his threat. _God, no! Don't do that!_

Eric's hardly intimidated one bit. He takes another step closer, ignoring me as I reach out and try to grab him by the forearm. He gets real close to the masked robber, pushing his face near his covered one, looming over him in all his magnificent height, and I almost stop breathing.

"Do it then," Eric taunts in a quiet growl. "Take a shot. I dare you."

"Eric!" I gasp.

The guy turns the rifle onto me now, and I shrink back a few steps cautiously. _Great. So much for going unnoticed. Thanks very much, Eric!_

Eric brings his eyes down to me briefly, and I see a fleeting look of fear in his eyes, as he turns them back to the psycho robber standing before us.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Eric says through his teeth. His voice is low. Dangerously low. I can feel the rage emulating off him, all because of the guy holding his weapon at me. "It isn't very smart of you."

"Yeah? And why not?" The guy mocks. "What you gonna do about it? Why don't you just drop your gal's tampons already, retard, and give up your wallets?"

He cocks the chamber of his rifle and my mouth dries. I can almost taste death coming for me. No, for _him_. _Bad move, buster._

Catching the armed robber off-guard, Eric announces ceremoniously: "Tampon explosion!" And tampon explosion is really what we get.

He rips the package apart with his fingers easily, flings it in the air between him and the robber and up all the fourteen tampons go, cascading and hitting around their faces like a waterfall. Then, faster than my eyes are able to see, Eric lashes out, sending a swift punch square into the masked robber's mouth. The robber moans loudly, staggering backwards over the vigour of Eric's vampire punch, and I see blood and one of his front teeth squirting out from his mouth as he spits at the ground near his feet and grimaces revoltingly. Along with Eric's punch, he drops the rifle and it falls to the ground with a clatter.

"Son of a whoresome bitch," the robber cries out in pain.

Racing forward, I scoot down to pick it up before he can get it again. All it takes is one precious second to get upright onto my feet and I'm holding the shotgun to his chest.

Oh, God. It isn't a very smart move of me either. I forgot for a moment there that there was another robber with a gun. All it takes him is one heartbeat to angle his shotgun onto me, and then he pulls the trigger.

"Sookie, no!" Eric yells at the top of his lungs as the shot sounds off.

"Oomph," I grumble, hitting the floor painfully.

I hiss as searing pain shoots through my back, and it takes me a belated moment to realize Eric is lying on top of me, shielding my body and face with the entire length of his body. Shots keep sounding off, making an awful loud noise, and Eric keeps jerking over me like he is experiencing some type of uncontrollable seizure. He is taking the bullets for me all over his chest. Because he is a vampire, he still reacts fast. He grabs the gun off the floor near me and fires an expert shot. A bullet goes right into the robber's head. Blood and other bodily fluids splatter on the wall, and there's a lot of screaming.

Eric's shot has taken the robber's entire head off.

"Daddy, no!" The other robber yells, sobbing. "No, Daddy! Fuck!"

And then Eric's firing the screaming young man in the kneecap.

He buckles to the floor, yelping and screaming in pain. I feel no sympathy for him, terrible as that is. Not when Eric rolls over onto his side, panting and heaving like a desperate man needing air. I scramble up onto my knees, pushing him long ways onto the floor with two hands grasping his shoulders. I hover over him, evaluating him.

Oh no. There is four holes in his shirt.

He coughs a bit, cursing bitterly under his breath, and dark red blood starts drenching everything.

"Eric," I scream loudly, panicking.

Oh, Jesus. No, no, no. Don't die on me! Not you!

"Perky," he pants out in a horribly pained voice. "I... I'm dying."

"Bullshit, you can't die on me." I feel unreasonably mad at him for some reason. I know it isn't his fault, but still. _Asshole_. I punch him in his shoulder, and he makes a deep noise, startled by it. "You _can't_ die on me," I say again, feeling my eyes flood with tears. "Especially not when I... I love you."

It surprises me myself, when it comes flying out of my mouth. I love him? Do I love him? Yes, I realize. I do. I do love him. It's taken me a very long time to figure that out, but I... I do. Guess it takes a life-and-death situation for me to sort out my feelings for a person.

His eyes are wide and full of pain and something else, as he looks up at me. He tries to pat his chest, but then gives up and lets his hand flop. "Oh, I would feel touched but I'm too weak.." he wheezes out, "Dying..." He makes a tragic noise, and then his head flops back into the floor.

"No!" I cry, and my body shakes with silent sobs. "No!"

He lifts his head and then he rips open his sodden shirt, showing me his blood-soaked chest, seemingly without effort. Hmmm, for a dying man he sure still has a lot of strength in him. "Silver bullets," he wretches quietly. "Suck... out..."

"What?" I gasp, horrified.

"You have to suck them out. Silver... burning my skin... Argh." He flops his head back down again.

"You have to be shitting me! Suck them out? With my mouth, you mean?"

"Yes," he grumbles weakly through clenched teeth. "Now. Or else I'll die."

Oh, what the hell? I decide. There is no way I'm letting him die on me now. I'll do anything to help him. I push all my hair away from my shoulders shakily, because I don't exactly want to get blood in it. I force myself to approach it as though I'm doing something good. It isn't disgusting, I try to convince myself. It's just a few four bullets I have to suck out. No biggie.

"I would die for you," he goes on through his teeth and fangs at me, rubbing it all in for good measure so that I feel even more awful than I already do. "I would take a knife, and bullets for you."

"Yes, all right, jackass," I snap, sighing sadly. "And I am forever grateful that you would, Eric. Now quit talking and let me get to work!"

Bracing myself, I start with the first one I can find. It's near his ribcage, and as I close my mouth over it, he gives out a gurgled, soft laugh. "Fucking tickles," he breathes. Taking in a big slurp, I feel the bullet click into my mouth. Scrunching up my face, I spit it out near me and the bullet plunks to the floor loudly. Oh, God. This is a nasty piece of work. I want to gag.

"All right, one down, three more to go," I pant to him, getting straight into it. I find another entry point near his left nipple, and as I close my tongue around it and start sucking, he lets loose a big moan that vibrates through his chest to my mouth. It feels so weird. I spit that bullet out, along with a mouthful of his blood. Then I waste no time whatsoever with getting the second last one out. Once that is successful, I get quickly into pulling out the last one with my tongue. All the while, I can hear him grunting and groaning and panting underneath me. They don't sound like painful noises, either. I think this is turning him on to some extent. Can't say I'm in the same boat.

As I spit out the last one, I hear him give out a little sigh of relief.

"Much better," he pants roughly. "Good job, Perky."

"Well, there," I mutter, looking him over. He's already starting to heal luckily. I look up at his face to find him grinning crookedly at me through his fangs. It displeases me to no end. Showing it, I pinch his skin, twisting around the loose skin near his ribcage, and he cracks up laughing quietly. "Oh, yes. Laugh it off. I bet you enjoyed that, didn't you? You big sicko!"

He blinks down at his body and looks real satisfied that it's doing its own work in healing all by itself. And then a terribly disgruntled look comes across his face. One that I don't much like. "Oh, shit," he groans, using his hand to cup his crotch crassly. He rubs his fingers up at the side of his groin, and when he turns them to me slowly, I see wet and sticky blood coating his fingertips. "I think I got shot near the balls, Perky. I think there is a bullet still in there."

_Oh, great. So now I have to suck near his balls? Just wonderful._

"Please no," I groan fearfully in protest.

_Gee. The things you do for love..._

Suppressing a heavy sigh, I unbuckle his jeans and get to it, trying to act as natural as I possibly can. I pop open his button, and peek around us nervously, just to check and make sure no one's watching. The coast is clear, so I try to yank down his jeans. He helps me by lifting his groin up into the air. He is so eager for me to suck him near there, and I hate him for it.

I look up at him sourly, hating the warm and amused look in his eyes. "Guess you better suck that one out too."

"Yeah, no shit," I grumble, voicing my disgust. "This is the grossest thing ever, just so you know. I am never, ever doing this again!"

When I'm done with sucking that one out in a certain unnameable place I can't even dare to describe without feeling flustered, I wipe my mouth frantically and stick out my tongue in revulsion. Seizing my head, he pulls me up and starts kissing me. "I love you, Perky," he says, and that cheers me up wonderfully. I get a bad dose of the warm fuzzies, and poke my tongue into his mouth, licking his fangs. Then he rolls on top of me. He's horny, and thankful to be alive. Maybe I am, too.

But there's really no time for it. Not when the police arrive to evaluate the scene that has taken place.


	27. Intense and Primal and Dirty

**First, I own nothing to do with True Blood. I'm just messing around with the characters- and having the time of my life doing it.**

**I want to thank you all so much for being so amazing and sweet. I am so pleased you find the story funny (and also secretly pleased that I'm not crazy for laughing to myself while writing it). I get so happy when I read reviews, even if they just say LOL, because I'm very humbled that my attempts to make you laugh or feel amused have worked! It makes my day, so thank you all, you're all so lovely! Hoping you enjoy this one!**

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Seven_**

There is an invasion of cops everywhere to evaluate the scene. I hear one of them thinking about how crazy it is. It definitely tops it in his book as being the most startling crime scene he has ever been in, considering the state of the room. _All that blood... all those tampons decorating the floor._

Much to my dismay, it's Andy Bellefleur who comes in to question everybody. It is the very last thing I needed. He was right there questioning me on the night of my Grandmother's death, and I knew he felt it was suspicious that I had turned up in another scene. To my outrage, Andy feels it's necessary for the safety of the civilians in the room to handcuff Eric which, understandably, Eric isn't too pleased about. And neither am I. I am filled with rage.

He goes around the room taking his time with questioning people. And then once it's my turn, anxiety quickly takes boiling rages place as he fixes a stern, business-like look onto me.

"You know, Sookie, every time I been running into you lately it involves people winding up dead. First your Grandmother Adele, and now this unknown guy who just got his head blown off..."

_And he says that like it's my fault? "_Well, what can I say?" I laugh weakly, trying to make a joke out of it. "I guess death loves me." And, it's true; Death does actually love me, if death is a dead man who goes by the name Eric Northman. _He said he loves me! He actually loves me!_ The warm fuzzies attack me again ruthlessly, and I have to squeeze my legs together.

I can tell my jokes in poor taste, because he frowns at me grimly and shakes his head in disapproval. "Do you care to explain to me why you're here?"

I puff out my lips in exasperation. Why was he even bothering to ask me this ridiculous question? Why am I in a grocery store? It is a no-brainer, really. "Well, I'm here, Andy, because I got to restock my refrigerator, if you really need to know. Uneaten food tends to go mouldy after a while, so that's why I'm here. I had to do some grocery shopping. Isn't that obvious?"

He leans into me slowly, and starts whispering, as if it'll somehow stop Eric from overhearing. "Then why's _he_ here?_ He_ got to come with you, too?"

"Who?" Even as I ask, I know who he means. I'm not dumb. He means Eric, of course.

"You know, Sookie." He sounds irritated. _Well, good._ "Eric Northman."

"Oh, you mean Eric?" I repeat, purposefully raising my voice a notch. Andy's face reddens and he gives me a silent look of warning while pressing a stubby finger to his lips. "Well, yes. He came to help me out. Is there a problem with him doing that? Is that against the law or something to be associating with a dead man?"

"Of course it isn't against the law," he grumbles. "But he don't exactly have the most perfect track record. I just find it funny, him being here is all. Shouldn't he be off running that Fangtanya bar?"

"Fangtasia," I correct easily. "And I don't know. I guess he took the night off to spend some time with me. What's your point, Andy?"

"It's just I've seen the pair of you together a lot. It seems to me like he's hanging around you like a bad genital rash that refuses to get gone." I get a mental flash of that night when Gran died and how Eric appeared out-of-nowhere to comfort me, courtesy of Andy's mind. Then I get a mental flash of us standing around in the here and now at the grocery store from roughly five minutes ago. "What's going on with you two?"

"Andy, now. that's really none of your business," I inform him, with just the gentlest bite in my tone of voice so he can tell I am not at all pleased by his asking. "Eric's been great. He's been pulling me through a particularly difficult time. I refuse to give you anymore than that. And besides, what does this have to do with what went down here tonight?"

Andy flushes unpleasantly and beads of sweat trickle down his bald forehead. "I know you got right to tell me it ain't any of my business, Miss. Stackhouse, but it just seems fishy to me." His eyes run down my neck slowly, and I know what he's thinking. Literally. He's wondering about whether I let Eric bite me in the bedroom. He's also wondering what my poor Grandmother would have thought of that, had she still been alive.

"Andy, before Gran died, she met Eric." I feel a twinge of sadness over mentioning her out loud, but I swallow it down. Andy's eyebrows dip in surprise; He wasn't expecting me to reveal that, obviously. "And Gran loved him. She found him a very, very interesting man. What difference should it make that he's dead and falls underneath the category of vampire? Luckily my Grandmother had good sense and taste to know it isn't what a man is that makes him good. It's who he is, as a person." His eyes scan over my face doubtfully. "Don't you dare look at me like that, Detective Bellefleur," I hiss, scolding him. "And don't you dare make assumptions about me due to the people I choose to associate with."

He goes as red as a tomato then. I suppress a smile, enjoying his discomfort more than I probably ought to.

"Long story short, Eric saved my life tonight," I go on confidently. "If it hadn't been for him shielding me from those bullets, then I would be the one lying dead on the floor bleeding all over those tampons..." I shudder to myself at how close I had come to tasting death. I sure wasn't ready to die just yet. "And that robber, he clearly could have easily gone too far. If it wasn't for Eric shooting him, then I hate to think of just how many more victims there would be in here tonight." I jerk my head over at the poor guy who runs the store. "That poor fellow, over there... he's got a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. And some of these other customers, surely they have people relying on them, too, to get home. Loved ones for who they went out to get groceries for." I take in a deep, calming breath, before getting to the conclusion of my story. "Eric's the hero here, so please don't fault him for that. He did what was right. He saved lives here tonight. Don't go arresting him, when he did a very good thing tonight in saving all our lives. He-"

Andy raises a finger in the air, so I shut my mouth and permit him to speak with a wave of my hand.

"Sheriff Dearborn was just going through the CCTV footage of when the robbery took place. What he saw on there was concerning, as far as-" At this, he clears his throat as he gestures awkwardly to me- "What went on with you and the vampire Northman. Just what in God's_ good_ and_ holy_ name were you two doing?" He chuckles underneath his breath, and lowers his eyes so he doesn't have to stand looking at me. He's thinking dirty. He's thinking _oral sex._

Now I'm_ really_ pissed by the gall he has to question me on that. I can hardly hold my frustration in. Andy is thinking we looked pretty cosy on that footage that he saw of the pair of us. The camera was angled unfairly in the wrong way, making what I did for Eric look almost pornographic and inappropriate. Andy was starting to think I was some fangbanging whore with no moral standards in place for herself.

"You know, I don't know what I should be more insulted by; The fact you're insinuating what I did, or the fact you _actually believe_ that I am the type of young woman to stoop so low as to do something like that in public where_ anybody_ could see it. I am not a slut, Andy Bellefleur, and what I was doing for him was _not_ a sexual act in the slightest. He took four bullets for me, and I was only returning the favour in saving his life. He was hurting, and those bullets were silver! You know about vampire's and silver, right?"

It seems to do the trick in putting him in his rightful place. He hangs his head in shame.

"You are one dirty-minded Detective, Mr. Bellefleur, and you should be embarrassed with yourself," I tell him disgustedly, rubbing it all in for good measure. "Now, if you're done with insulting me like a pig, then I would very much like to pay for my groceries and get on home after the terrible ordeal that has taken place tonight." I dust my hands together and look over at my poor vampire, who is still handcuffed unpleasantly. "Oh, and I would also appreciate it if you could get my vampire friend out of those silver handcuffs before they singe his hands off!" I definitely need his hands on me tonight after our action-fuelled evening in the grocery store, that's for sure. What would we ever do without them?

* * *

After all the excitement, things become hilariously domesticated again. Eric carries all my grocery bags out to his Corvette, leaving me with nothing else to do. I get that it's very sweet and gentlemanly of him, but am I really that incompetent? "You really don't have to bother doing that for me," I tell him, for what feels like the millionth time I've said it. "I'm real thankful that you are but I do have hands, you know."

He ignores me and fishes his keys out of his back pocket. Then he throws them at me, without warning. It's really lucky I'm a great catcher. "There you go," he says, while throwing all my bags inside carelessly. I'm thankful I don't have any breakables in there.

"Huh?" I shake his car keys around loudly.

"It puts the key in the ignition and then it drives," he explains slowly and quietly, like I'm a child. Whoa, mama. He's letting me drive his car? Okeydokey then. I can't help grinning like a fool as I climb in. I've never driven a fancy car like this before, so sue me for going a little too overboard with the enthusiasm. "Oh, and it doesn't crash," he adds seriously, as he slides into the passenger's seat.

_Is he referring to me as 'It'? How lovely of him._

"Well, if I crash, then it's your problem," I tell him, maybe a tad childishly. I know I won't crash, but it is really his fault if I somehow mysteriously do. He is the one that gave me the keys after all. "Seatbelts on," I mutter cheerfully, and then I start-up the engine. I whistle loudly in appreciation; This car is so much louder than my one at home.

I check in the rear-view mirror, just for precaution because you can never be too careful, then I stomp my foot down onto the gas. We shoot forward with a roar, and I love all that noise and powerful vibration going through me. Usually I am a very safe driver, who obeys the limit. But in this car, it's a little hard to be good. Plus, with the roof down and the wind whistling in my ears, the air blowing my hair around my face; it's the best feeling in the world.

"Woo," I howl happily, and I see Eric press his fingers over his ears discreetly. I have a feeling that I'm being too loud, but oh well. _Boy, can this car move! _"Do you know what Andy thought of me tonight, all because I was with you again?" I ask him, just for the sake of talking. It's nice to talk about random things sometimes.

"What?" Eric sounds completely clueless and curious.

"Well, he thinks I'm a whore," I confess to him bitterly, keeping my eyes forward on the road. "He thinks that I'm a fangbanging whore, and that I ought to be _completely_ ashamed of myself for associating with you. Can you _believe_ that?" I laugh to myself angrily. I learn something new about myself: When I'm upset and frustrated, I tend to be a lead foot. The car picks up speed faster and faster. "No matter that I haven't been with anyone else...or that you're a decent person."

"Fuck everyone else," he says quietly.

"Amen," I mutter stiffly. "I wish it was that easy."

I spook myself out when I peek and see how fast I'm driving. Purposefully, I bring the car back down to a speed I'm more comfortable with handling. Now wasn't the time to be reckless. Maybe Eric senses that I'm thinking too hard on what Andy thought tonight, or maybe he can see that I need a good distraction for himself, because he plucks one of my hands off the steering wheel. I turn my head to look at him sadly, and then my sadness has instantly turned into mush by what he does next.

He brings my hand up to his mouth, and suddenly he's sucking on my forefinger, hard. I almost swerve the car. Then he bites down with his teeth, I gasp loudly, and I almost lose focus on my steering and run right off the road.

"Watch the road, Perky," he murmurs in a throaty voice. It's a bit hard when he's doing pleasantly weird things to my finger. I'm starting to get the tingles all over, which probably isn't a very smart thing to feel when you're driving. I can't even seem to feel my legs anymore, or my feet. The only thing that matters is his tongue, mouth, and teeth assaulting my finger.

Everything else be damned.

"I'm pulling the car over." I try desperately to keep my voice light, and fortunately it works with me. I pull over onto the bumpy side of the road and cut off the engine. And then I'm unbuckling my seatbelt and turning in my seat to look at him. I give him a small smile. I can't exactly see his face all that much since it's so dark, but his pale skin shines faintly in the moonlight, and his eyes shimmer at me from where he sits. Leaning over despite how awkward and small the space is, I manage to run the back of my hand over the side of his cheek. I hear his fangs pop out audibly all due to my touching, and I can't help grinning to myself. "But you know what, Eric?"

"What, Perky?"

"I don't think I give a rat's ass what other people think, as much as I can try not to. If this makes me a whore for loving being around you, then so be it."

Feeling brave and crazy, all at once, I clasp his face tightly in my hands and lean over a fraction more to get to him. I kiss him, and he groans low and deep in his throat. I feel his lips part as he inhales against mine, and then his tongue invades my mouth. One of his hands moves up to the back of my head, fisting my hair tightly while holding my mouth to his, and we kiss for what seems an awfully long, glorious moment. And then it gets way too much, and I'm painfully horny. But by the sounds he is making, it would seem he is too. Excellent.

"Car sex," I mutter excitedly against his lips.

"What?" he grunts hoarsely.

"Car sex," I repeat again, a bit more forcefully. "Right here, right now."

I try to scoot over onto him, but then the gearstick kind of gets in the way and ends up hurting me in a rather private and sensitive place.

"Ow," I moan, rubbing myself through my jeans with a hiss. Taking me by surprise, he unbuckles his seatbelt, wraps his arms around my waist, and helps me over. I swing my legs over him, sit while grabbing onto the headrest near his face to keep my balance, and... _ah... much better. There we go._

He presses something, a button in his car, and then Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye starts playing out of his speakers softly, filling around us. Funnily enough, it complements the atmosphere in the car. It gets me pumped about getting down and dirty. It's a cheesy song, sure. But there is no denying it's working on my libido.

"Sexual Healing, huh?" I laugh shakily.

"I hear it's an aphrodisiac for humans." His voice is husky and deep and I think it about arouses me way more than the music is. "Is it working?"

"I don't know." I pretend to think about it deeply for a moment. "I mean, I think you're doing just fine on your own in turning me on."

Eric hisses through his teeth at me, and I hear the tell-tale sign of his zipper being pulled open from underneath me. I do the same in trying to yank down my jeans along with my panties, and it isn't exactly the most easiest job to do, and I accidentally stomp all over him with my knees, but I manage with some silent patience from his end to wriggle free so I'm exposed.

I can hardly believe we're actually going to do this, on the side of the road in his Corvette, Red, of all places. But it's fun, and Eric seems down with it. If he's down with it, then hell, so am I.

I can feel him staring up at me in the dark, and I raise my hand to drag the tips of my fingernails softly down his cheek, and around his chin. He makes a very loud noise to let me know he likes that, and then he catches my hand in his, and guides it to his mouth. His fangs nip into my palm, penetrating the soft skin while he makes a very hungry, gruff noise, but it's a very brief and faint pain felt. It excites me for some reason, and I hear myself moaning quietly.

"Show me," I plead desperately, not even recognizing the sound of my own voice. I sound funny. Weird. _Dirty. Horny._

"What?" I press my bitten palm into his lips, slathering blood around. I feel the blood surge up to my cheeks, as I hear him lick around his lips noisily with his tongue.

"Yep." I slip my hand into his jeans, feeling around with my fingers. He starts panting loudly. "Show me how intense and primal and dirty vampire sex can be." I make a fake growling noise at him, then laugh nervously at how ridiculous I sound. How come he can make all the sexy noises, and I can't? So frigging unfair.

His hand tightens in the back of my hair, and he's still for a very long moment. I think he's thinking it through carefully. Then he murmurs, "Fuck it. It's only a car. Easily replaceable." And I don't quite understand what he means by that, but all I know is that he's agreeing to it. Thank Jesus. His mouth is on mine, forceful, urgent, while his other hand gets down to some exploring. He caresses my naked thighs, and then drags his hand _right up there_. It shocks the life out of me and I wiggle a bit. "Still, Perky," he growls like an animal. When two fingers brush over me intimately down there, still is all I'm able to be. I cry out, and tilt my head, granting him access to my neck. His teeth graze my jaw, and then he bites into my neck. Suddenly being bitten doesn't feel so... bad after all. Not combined with what his fingers are doing to me. It's pleasure and pain.

Then his jeans are down enough and he is replacing his fingers with something else. He fills me, and then his hands are quickly grasping onto my hips, and then we're moving in sync desperately for pleasure. I grasp his face between my hands and kiss him hard, and then we're both moaning along to Sexual Healing, and I'm loving it one-hundred-percent. I can't say Marvin Gaye's crooning voice has anything to do with how hot I am. No, it's Eric's fangs grazing my lips, his guttural moans, his hands, skin. _Everything Eric._

His hands move around beneath my thighs, squeezing my skin, as he guides me to a faster, quicker rhythm, and the pleasure radiates so intensely I feel like I'm going to burst into flames. Or scream at the top of my lungs. Or that his car is going to spontaneously combust.

Helplessly, I snake my arms around him, digging my fingers into the nape of his neck, as the sensation builds on... and on ruthlessly. He shifts slightly on the car seat, making his thrusts deeper and rougher, and he groans through gritted teeth, and then the glorious feeling starts building higher and higher.

Sexual Healing comes to an end, but _we_ don't.

All I can hear is each of us panting and groaning like wild animals, and then the song starts playing again, and the fact Eric Northman has it on repeat... it sends me over the edge hysterically. I never knew car sex could feel this wonderful. I never knew _I_ could feel this great. I never knew that he could make me feel... like this... floating... aching... oh, my stars... I stiffen around him, heaving desperately for air. I don't think I can stand it much longer. Neither can the car, it seems.

Something very big and amazing comes- literally- and Eric whispers breathlessly and painfully into my forehead: "Fluttering," and then I come undone at his words, exploding, and as he comes a second later, he accidentally kicks the door with his heel and out it flies from the hinges with a loud racket a meter away from us. My body feels absolutely drained. My mind, too, but in a fabulous way. We lean our sweaty foreheads against each other, as we breathe it out. Primal and intense vampire sex indeed. I certainly can't complain. It seems Eric can't, either.

"Well, there goes my car," he mutters tiredly under his breath. "I fucking loved this car." But he doesn't seem truly concerned or grumpy either way. "Oh, well. Shit happens."

"True," I murmur sleepily.

"Again?" he breathes hopefully.

"What? So soon? You have got to be kidding me! You can't possibly- Oh, gee!"

But then I feel him, and he definitely is ready for more.

He suggests excitedly, "Let's see if we can demolish my car into pieces!"

"Um, okay. You're on!" And I'm all too happy to help.

Roughly half an hour later, his poor car is an absolute wreck. It won't start, neither. I purse my lips, fighting back a cocky smile. I guess that's what happens when you have crazy sex with a vampire; Things tend to get ruined, and I loved every minute of it. I think it's the thought of doing it out near the open road, where anybody could just drive past and see us, since the hood was down and we weren't exactly being quiet. Sex with this man is just bundles of surprising fun and it feels great to let loose and be naughty every once in a while. I'll feel bad about it later, sure. But as for now, I'm all smiles and weak at the knees. Literally. I feel like a drunk person, as I redress myself clumsily.

As we climb out of his car, I find I can't even stand straight. Eric has to steady me, and then we're both laughing like two drunk fools on their honeymoon. He looks unfairly relaxed and magnificent, with messy just-screwed-Sookie hair and a feral look with blood all over him. I know I must look just as feral, too; I'm pretty sure I've got bites all over me, but I hardly have a care in the world about how I look.

We send our farewells to his car as we leave it parked there, and then we're off, walking down the road together. I wrap myself up in the soothing silence being around him presents; It's so peaceful and relaxing to know all I can hear is my own train of thoughts. And since I'm so content and sex has worked me up a sweat, I'm hardly thinking about anything much at all. No, I'm way too exhausted for anything.

"There's this thing coming up next weekend, and it's meant to be pretty important," Eric starts quietly once we're halfway down the road. He sounds just as relaxed as I am. "All sheriff's in the vampire community are obliged to attend."

"Right," I whisper tiredly, wondering why he's bothering to bring it up the way he is. Is he maybe asking me to go with him?

"Well, we're supposed to bring our companions, whether they be human or otherwise. I've never had somebody attending with me before, but I couldn't exactly bring Pam along, because she's just my progeny. It doesn't count with her. It just makes me dread going to the stupid fucking event even more."

"Are you asking me to come along with you?" I have to stifle a smile, because it's pretty darn obvious that he's hinting to it.

"Maybe." He sounds as if he is trying to be way too casual on it. "I mean, the choice is entirely yours. I wouldn't force you into it. But my King holds these shitty events every year to celebrate his union with his husband. It's kind of like a party. We dress in our best suits and we all sit around and play friendly with one another, forcing aside our differences for the sake of the evening."

"Your King?" I mutter back, surprised. Vampire's have Kings? Sometimes my ignorance about the vampire world truly does show itself.

"Yeah, I have a King, Perky. I'm not the oldest vampire in this world, after all."

It's scary to think a vampire could be older than a thousand. "Are you sure you'd want me coming with you?" I ask, feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Do human's actually go to this thing?"

"Sure, they do. And despite the fact that there is over forty vampire's in the room, you'd be idiotic to go against everything and try to take another vampire's claimed human as your own. It's safe. One of the sheriffs, Isabel, about the only one I get along with well... well, she brings her human, Hugo, to the event every year, and he's never had any trouble, aside from a few blood-jokes."

"So I would be perfectly safe going then?" I feel relieved. But also still nervous. I've never had to be around so many vampire's before, obviously.

"Of course," he says, and he sounds nothing but completely earnest. Colour me double-relieved, then. "Plus, I have a well-known reputation among the vampire community as being psychotic and a little unstable. No one would dare to cross me or my human unless they have a death-wish." Although I know he is telling me that to soothe me, it isn't very pleasing to hear.

"How are you psychotic?" I ask, full of disbelief. "You don't seem all that crazy to me?" Just troubled, with issues like most people have. Hell, I'm not exactly the most sound person myself, I admit.

"Well, a few years back at one of the parties, one of the sheriff's from another district thought it would be hilarious to place a chair beside mine with a name-tag that had Godric's name written all over." Gee, what a bully that vampire was. "Of course, I didn't find it all that funny. They like to taunt me over my visions of Godric. I thought it was Stan that was responsible for it, so I accused him of it and threw him up against the wall. I almost ruined the King's entire fucking night due to it."

"Stan?" Why does that name sound so familiar to me? But then with some careful thought, it hits me. "Oh, right! Stan! He was the guy that was with Godric at the time of his death, right? The one that was dead to the world when it happened, because it went on during the daylight hours?"

"He was. And we don't get along very well. I swear, he let Godric die for his own personal gains. Now he has taken his title of sheriff to his area. How convenient for him." He chuckles to himself bitterly. "Half the time it becomes physically draining attending these bullshit parties with him in close perimeters to me. All I seem to want to do is beat the undead shit out of him. He also feels it's necessary to gloat on how I never have anyone attending with me every year. He also says it's because I'm crazy."

I make a sympathetic noise at him. Then I'm suddenly sparked with determination. "What do people wear to these things?"

"It's a suit and tie event. Real classy, pompous ass-kissing shit."

"No, I mean... as far as women go? Or would I have to wear a suit and tie as well?"

"No. A dress would be just fine, Perky. A nice dress and suitable heels."

"Then I'll wear the prettiest dress I've got," I tell him determinedly. I want to show this Stan jerk. I want to rub it all in his face that Eric Northman might be troubled, but he isn't what anyone would consider crazy.

"Oh, you don't have to." He sounds both nervous and embarrassed at the thought of me tagging along with him. "You've got your own shit to deal with now. You're still waiting on the coroner's report into how your Grandmother died. I understand."

"I said I'll go," I say stiffly. "But I'm trusting you not to let anyone fang-rape me while we are there. You have to be watching me like a hawk, understood?"

He laughs hoarsely underneath his breath. "That would be no problem, and no one would even think about it, I assure you."

"Well, they better not!" And it's a dangerous warning.

**Hoping you enjoyed this one? :-) Thanks so much for reading. Next chapter features Sookie in a room with heaps of vampire sheriff's and Talbot serenading his hubby saucily to cheesy music. Love you guys! x**


	28. Living Together?

**Again, I want to thank you all so much for your reviews and alerts, and most of all, your response to this story! I am so shocked, as I never thought anyone would like my writing (and how crazy this story is, and silly)! Thank you all so much! And four-hundred reviews... whoa! I never expected that to ever happen! It's so astounding, so thank you all! Hope you all are happy and well! Much love xx**

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight**_

Tonight's the big night and I'm nervous as all hell. In the only way I know how to make myself fully relaxed about attending a vampire King's anniversary party, I run a nice and warm bath. Too bad I never want to leave. I sigh to myself as I plop down into the tub, resting my head. A hot bath can be so heavenly. Why couldn't a person just spend the rest of their lifetime sponging around in a bathtub? Oh, because their skin goes all wrinkly like a prune if they are in water long enough, that's why.

I think back over the week, as I like to do when it's quiet, feeling a bit tense._ What a crazy week it has been._

It gets me a bit angry to think about it, if I'm perfectly honest. I finally said my farewells to my Grandmother and we had her buried. Her coffin was very lovely, and it was about the biggest funeral we've ever had here in Bon Temps. I think most that resided in the Parish who knew my Grandmother attended to show their respects, with the exception of _Eric_, of course. He couldn't come because it was daylight, but much to my delight, his seedy friend Ruben came in his place. He had flowers for me, too.

But then there was _Jason..._ I feel my jaw tighten at the thought of him.

It was starting to be a lovely day to remember my Grandmother by, and everyone was on their best behaviour for the occasion. But Jason had ruined it for me, when he showed up ten minutes late for the service. Although I knew he would never do it intentionally, it got me so mad that I could have strangled him and made a huge scene. And really, I did end up making a pretty big scene; One that I can't say I'm too proud of. Once we were alone and no one was within earshot, anyway.

Adele was his Grandmother as well. She had raised him since our parent's died, and yet, he c_ouldn't_ express the kindness and respect she deserved in being punctual for her own damn funeral!

What made it a million times worse was that when he came over, smiling ruefully as he pushed past people to get into the empty fold-out chair beside me where the family members sat in (and that was an extremely freaky moment to realize Jason was literally the only family I had left), was that he was even wearing those damned stupid sunglasses again. I wanted to rip them off him but then I knew better, and I think I was almost afraid of what I'd see. I didn't want to have to see what went on behind those eyes of his, because I knew it only would have ended up killing me. _Or caused me to fly into a murderous rage._

I know something is up with Jason. He's been very... different. Not only does he _look_ different, but he just _is_ different. Sure, he has always been habitually selfish. But I didn't think he was _that selfish_ to stoop so low as to arrive to his own Grandmother's funeral late. After all she doted on him more than anyone else in the entire universe. It wasn't very nice of him, and I had made my point very clear when we were finally alone.

I had lost it entirely, almost to the point of no return.

Losing my cool, I had slapped him around the face.

It had taken him a moment too long for the pain to hit. He was_ that_ numb, and I hadn't the slightest clue if it was the grief over losing Gran that did it to him, or whether it was something far more worrying, like drugs. "What the hell, sis?"

"You are so high, Jason!" I had yelled furiously. "How _could_ you turn up to your _own_ Grandmother's funeral high? You rude son of a bitch!"

"I ain't fucking high, sis!"

"You are! You are _so_ high! You fell asleep while they were burying Gran!" _And he had. Oh, God. He totally had._

Yet he dared to deny it, like a fool. "I was resting my eyes!"

"Resting your eyes?" I had burst out laughing hysterically. He was so ridiculous to try using that excuse on me. Even now, it makes me tremble with rage. "You were snoring and drooling all over the place, Jason! You think Gran deserves that, huh?" I had hit him in the chest furiously with my palm. And exactly like before, it had taken him _way too long_ for the pain to register. A moment later, he had wrapped his arms over himself, sobbing quietly, and he had even started shivering violently. "Where have you been?" I had demanded loudly, even though I knew he wouldn't give me the courtesy of knowing. "What's been keeping you? Is it that new girlfriend of yours, Jason? Is she getting you into all types of dangerous drugs?"

"What?" His mouth had dropped open then, and along with it, a stream of saliva flung out of his mouth. I felt ill just looking at him. _Never_ had I seen my brother look so pitiful and undignified. "No, I'm not. I mean, I'm not doing any drugs! I'm _just_ high on life, sis! Do you know what our purpose is in this universe?"

"Excuse me?" _Our purpose?!_

"It's all so simple, sis. You see? We're here to breed, and spread our seed, sis. That's our purpose!"

After that ridiculous sentence had been flung carelessly out from his stupid, high mouth, I had dusted my hands of him altogether. I've avoided him all week. It's funny, because when I truly needed him, he was away on leave. Now, it's like he won't leave me alone. That's family for you, I guess. It gets me so angry and upset just thinking about it. Then to make matters a billion times worse, God had just decided cruelly that it was the perfect time for me to suffer even more and he granted me my monthly flow for the week. So not only was I depressed and grieving for my Granny, I was also crampy and hormonal.

I believe, really, that _Eric's_ been the one that has pulled me through this horrendous week. I swear, if it wasn't for him I'd be locked away in a mental ward by now. Since I've been so crabby and I've just been desiring nothing more than to sleep, I had to call poor Eric up after dark, of course, and ask him to get me some tampons (since he destroyed mine after that robbery incident at the grocery store). How degrading can it be for a woman to have to ask a man to buy her sanitary items for her monthly flow? I felt like the worst person in the world. Eric didn't mind, though. He seemed very happy by my asking, and oddly enough, his daughter Pam had tampons lying around. In my defence, though, I am a woman and I can't help it. Heck, if I had my say... I'd make myself never have to go through monthly flows ever again. I _cannot wait_ to go through menopause. Menopause is going to be such a blast.

The hot water and pretty scent of the oils makes me feel better, and just as I'm sinking in deeper and setting my right foot up onto the side of the tub to start lathering my leg up to shave, someone makes a terribly startling noise to show their delight in finding me in here.

"Well, would you look at that? My Sookie, all wet and... soapy. How horny it makes me."

"Jesus, Eric!" My heart pounding a mile a minute, I splash down deeper into the water and put my arms over my breasts. "Haven't you heard of knocking? Gee!"

"I did knock particularly loud on the door. Did you not hear me?"

"No, goddamn it, I didn't! Why can't you just yell at me and give me a warning next time?" _Heaven knows he loves to yell..._

Just when I'm thinking the coast is clear and that he's left, I start shaving my leg with my razor, and then he pops in well and truly unannounced. He stands immobilized, peering in at me near the bathtub, his eyes glimmering hungrily, like me shaving my legs is such a momentous event. His fangs are even out, for goodness sake. What's so sexy about a young woman taking the hair off her legs? I try to pay good attention to what he is wearing for the evening, for a little tip of what I should wear, but it's a bit hard to; He's wearing a button-up white shirt with black buttons, and bright ocean blue trousers. He has his jacket draped around his shoulder, hooked to his index finger, and it matches the colour of his trousers flawlessly. It reminds me a bit of what a young John Travolta would have worn in his Saturday Night Fever days. He looks damn delicious and I want to jump his bones, but I really have to get through shaving my legs first.

"Need some help with that?" he asks, sounding real hopeful and eager that I do.

"No, I don't," I hiss grumpily. "I am perfectly capable of shaving my legs, thank you very much."

He grins down at me suggestively. "Well, you just cry out if you cut yourself. I'd be more than happy to clean it up for you, with my _tongue_."

_Gross. Ick._ "You are disgusting," I tell him, suppressing a shudder. "Is that what you're wearing tonight?"

"Yes, obviously." He runs his hands through his hair, smoothing it down in a hilariously self-conscious gesture. And then his eyes lighten up as he spots my dress folded up neatly on the closed toilet-seat. "Ooh, is this what you are wearing?" He goes straight over to my dress, picks it up by the shoulder straps, and wiggles it around a bit, inspecting it seriously.

"Um, yeah. Is that okay? Or should I wear something a bit more... revealing?" The dress shows a fair amount of my cleavage, but it isn't that shocking. It's still reasonably modest, and it just reaches my thighs.

"No, this is fine," he says distractedly, licking his lips.

"Um, well good. Now can you please get out of here so I can concentrate on shaving my legs? This is very hard work for a girl!"

"What shoes are you intending to wear?"

"Them right there," I inform him, pointing down to the pair of heels I've set out on the bathroom floor. "Oh, and if you really need to know... I'm wearing some earrings my Gran gave me. Pearl-drop ones. I think they're sterling silver. Is that okay?"

"I don't think you'll have any luck getting past security with those ones."

"Why not?" I scrunch up my face. I really love those earrings Gran got me. I never get a good enough chance to wear them, though. "What do you mean by security? Why wouldn't they let me?" Even as I ask, I kind of realize. _Well, of course._ Silver can be used as a weapon, and the place where I'm heading out to tonight, there will be a lot of vamp's in the room. It makes sense. Still, they are just harmless earrings. "Well, I'll try my luck anyway," I decide determinedly. "If they tell me to remove them, then I will." I clear my throat and make my voice purposefully dangerous, "Now scram. Let me get to work."

Much to my relief, he does, albeit not very enthusiastically. He stares at my leg hungrily before he gets out of the bathroom. Maybe he was hoping he could perve on me while I get ready? Well, over my dead body.

You certainly feel a lot more confident with yourself when you put some effort in for something.

Once I'm done, I take time and care into wiping my body dry with a towel, and then I smear on a roll of deodorant underneath my arm-pits because I'm betting vampire's have a heightened sense of smell, and I don't exactly want to smell sweaty and nervous around them. Then I slip into my pretty pair of white panties that have frilly lace around the band, and slide into the best push-up bra I own to give my girly assets a little bit of a boost. I slather moisturizer all over my body so my skin looks all soft and sheeny, and then I slither into my dress.

I look at myself in the mirror, and give myself a little nod of appreciation over my efforts to look good. I look very nice, if I do say so myself. My dress is wispy and modest enough, and it shows off my curves it a very flattering way. The push-up bra definitely does my girls some good. Now I've got to put on my make-up and do my hair. It takes me a while to straighten it, because it's still damp.

I brush my fringe back, use some pretty floral-flowered clips I have to tack it in place to my skull, and then I spray some hairspray over it so it looks shiny and healthy and fuzz-free. I put on my silver pearl-drop earrings, and they seem to go well with my yellow patterned, strap-dress. I make a few alterations with my eyebrows by picking out a few sneaky hairs, but then I realize I really ought to have done it earlier because it makes my eyes all puffy and moist. Whenever I pluck my eyebrows, I tend to cry. Not out of sadness or anything like that. but it just tends to hit a sensitive nerve in my body and makes the waterworks happen. I put on some foundation, and a little bit of blush and bronzer around my neckline to make my boobs really shimmer and pop.

I'm trying to go for the natural, minimalistic look as much as possible, so vampire's don't get the wrong impression and think I'm keen for some fang-raping action, when I'm downright not. Sure, it's peachy for Eric to fang-rape me, because I trust him and know he wouldn't hurt me. But other vamp's, well... they can go get staked for all I care!

Then I put on some mascara, a bit of pale pink lip-gloss, and then this girl's job here is done.

"You look great," I tell my reflection nervously, just because a girl needs the encouragement sometimes. "Well done, Sookie. And your cleavage looks outstanding, if I do say so myself..."

Shaking my head at how crazy I sound talking to myself, I sit down and push on my heels. There, we go. I'm a few inches taller now, and I feel amazing. _I am woman, hear me roar! Grr!_

All good to go, I'm a little stunned to find Eric standing there by the bathroom door, waiting for me. This time, he has his jacket on, and the colour of his suit stands out something marvellous. I smile nervously as he makes an unnecessary noise at me, and then it takes me a belated moment to realize he's holding something in his hand. I give him a rude look. Are those plastic fangs I see? Why do I need to wear them? What the hell?

"You're going to need to wear these, my Sookie." He sounds a little breathless and aroused. "Uh, I mean Perky."

"Did you just call me 'Your Sookie'?"

"No," he says quickly, and he looks like he would be blushing, if he could. How weird. _He totally just called me that! I have ears after all! _He walks closer to me and tells me to push up my top-lip. It's crazy, but then so am I, really. I let him shove the plastic fangs up over my row of top teeth without comment, and then I feel all weird and like I'm about to drool. How on earth am I meant to talk properly? Or maybe that's the point? I don't talk, because I'm just a silly, harmless human.

"Are other human's wearing these?" I ask, horrified at how slurry and drunk I sound. I definitely can't talk properly with these in.

Eric doesn't answer; he just laughs at me quietly.

"Shut up," I yell miserably. I have a lisp. Wonderful. "Let's just get this thing over with before I get so annoyed that I end up doing something terrible to you."

He laughs again amusedly.

"Pish off, Erick! Lush go!" Oh, shit. Yep, I definitely can't talk with these ridiculous plastic fangs in. He steps back a fraction to take a real good look at me, with my heels and plastic fangs and all, as I stand around awkwardly and annoyed at him. He looks, simply put, awed.

"My Sookie. You look fuck-worthy."

Oh, how typical of him to complement me by saying that. I roll my eyes at him, but find myself flushing nonetheless.

"And I might as well add, you will make an extremely sexy vampire one day."

My mouth dries._ I would make a sexy vampire one day? One day? More like a hundred-years from now! Do I ever want to be an undead person? Hell no!_

"Dream on," I snap. "Never happening."

His expression isn't very reassuring in the slightest. "We will see about that," he says quietly, in a rather foreboding and dark way. Then he clears his throat loudly. "How about some liquid courage before we go?"

"Yesh, that sounds good."

I give him a fierce look, and he restrains his chuckle very well. We head downstairs, but it takes me a while to get down them in my heels. I feel like an elderly woman hanging onto the railing as I take it one careful step at a time. Eric doesn't bother waiting for me, which is just rude. Once I finally manage to reach the kitchen after what feels like hours and hours have passed, he is already holding a glass of red wine out to me ceremoniously. At least he works fast.

"Thanks," I mutter stiffly, accepting it. Once he turns his back onto me to raid my refrigerator, I sneakily spit out the plastic fangs into my hand and take in a greedy sip. He doesn't notice I'm not wearing them, thank Jesus. "Hey," I gasp in outrage when he takes a bottle of synthetic blood out of the refrigerator.

I side-step him to peer inside, feeling my blood boil. He's got a whole shelf stacked with True Blood bottles in there, all to himself. _How dare he!_ I know it isn't really a big deal, but it is; _To me_ anyhow. This is _my_ Grandmother's house. He shouldn't feel entitled to just go ahead and put things in there without asking!

"Why do you have a whole shelf to yourself?"

"Is that a problem?" He sounds embarrassed.

"No," I say too quickly. Then backtrack. "I mean, yeah. It _kind of_ is. I mean, it makes me feel almost as if you live here in a sense? Like you're my... my partner or something, if you just ambush my house and feel at home to put all your stuff in it?"

"Oh," he breathes, sounding very disappointed by my reaction. "I wasn't aware it would be such an issue for you. I guess I better think about removing that rug out of your living room as well, huh?"

"What rug?" I am completely clueless. Then again, I've been stuck in the bathroom preparing for Lord knows how long. "You put a rug in my living room?"

"Well, yes." He eyes me anxiously and cautiously, as though he is worried I'm about to flip-out and go crazy. Truth be told, I'm coming close to it. "Is that a problem?"

"I wasn't even aware that you did!"

"Well, you were in the bathroom for a very long time. I was bored."

"So you thought it was perfectly alright to mess around with my house and put all your crap in it?"

"My _crap_?" Awesome. He's pissed. Just what I need. "Well, excuse me, but calling _my rug_ crap is quite frankly an insult. Do you _realize_ how fucking _time-consuming_ it is to _skin_ a bear with your _own_ two hands and nothing more than a blade?"

_Bear-skin rug?!_ Oh, I think I'm going to vomit.

"Please, I don't want to fight, but you need to get that rug out of my living room! Like yesterday! I don't feel comfortable _at all_ with animal hide in my house!" Hell, I don't feel comfortable about _any_ of this. "Why would you feel entitled to just put all your things in my house, anyhow? _Not only_ do you have a shelf to yourself and all your True Blood in there... but... a rug? Seriously! It's not like I go into your office at your bar and start putting up lovey-dovey posters! It's an invasion of my home and my privacy!"

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a moment, in a way to rein his temper, I think. "You want me to remove_ everything_?" he asks angrily.

"Well, yeah. I don't see why you've got to get so cheesed-off about it neither!"

"Do you realize?" he asks, his voice gruff.

"Realize _what_, Eric?"

"I have come here _every_ night for however many fuck-long amount of times!"

"So?" I shoot back defensively, completely missing the point. "That makes you entitled to my house? That gives you right to just pounce in here and shove all your belongings in here?"

"So..." He takes in a deep, shuddering breath. "So... aren't we practically living together? Isn't that what this means? My shit is your shit, and all that?"

_Well, hell._ I feel the blood drain from my face. He is _so_ right. _Oh my God._ He _has_ been coming here every night. For sex, yes, among other things.

"And do you remember last night, when you called me at the office and said you were too tired to get out and buy some milk, and I... I brought it back for you?"

_Oh my God! We are so practically living together!_

"Oh, and let's not forget the night when you... you called me in a panic because you suddenly got your period? I was in a meeting with the Magister and he heard the entire conversation and laughed at me, but I didn't care, because it was _you_! Luckily Pam had some tampons on her, but... I still got them for you, didn't I?" His mouth just keeps on running a mile a minute. "I _flew_ holding fucking tampons, because _we_ ruined my car that night!" He waves his hands around the kitchen frantically. "If all of this isn't justification enough that we're practically _together,_ then..." He growls helplessly through his teeth.

"Well, fine," I sigh hopelessly, trying to keep my voice as gentle and placating as possible. "You've made your point, good and well. We live together, pretty much." It's a shock, even to me. I feel like someone has only just smacked me around the face. "Do whatever you want with my house, but I'm drawing the line when it comes to blood-paintings and orgies. All right?"

He takes in another deep breath and trembles. I guess we're both pretty shaken.

I feel like I'm going to cry. This is so ridiculous. Before I'm able to stop myself, I lunge at him and throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly to me. I guess this is new to the both of us. It's going to take a while. When I pull back from him and hold his face gently in my hands at arm's length, he looks embarrassed and flustered. He can't even look at me.

"It's just there isn't a lot I wouldn't do for you," he splutters quietly. "And I lo..." He cuts himself off, and coughs loudly. It's definitely a fake cough, and it takes everything within me not to laugh. He looks so ashamed with himself and disgusted. It's hilarious in a kind of sad way. "I hate having feelings," he mutters bleakly, to himself I think. And then, with some effort, he brings his eyes to my face. "Well, let's go already."

"Oh, right." It takes me a moment to get my brain right. Vampire's, sheriff, party. "Of course. Let's get on with it."

_This is going to be so much fun. I hope._


End file.
